"'Two hundred guineas,' I said, appearing to dwell upon it; ''tis a goodly sum, and the boy might do well in Virginia. He is a lad of parts.'
"'Ay,' he replied, forgetting himself and that he pretended not to know you, 'he is. Smart and brisk, and looking a good two years older than his age. But of the two hundred guineas, all is not for you. I must have my share.'
"'That being?' I asked.
"'One half,' he replied. 'And think on it, Quin. One hundred golden guineas for thee and more, much more than that; for if you do this service for my lord he will absolve thee from thy contumacy and thine insults, both to his name and to the face of his wife-for his wife she is-and also to Mr. Considine, who is a gay and lightsome blade as ever strutted.'
"'That is something,' I said, giving now what appeared my adhesion to his scheme. 'Perhaps I spoke too roughly to them, and I would not lie in the clink for it. Yet to kidnap a boy-for such 'twill be at best, and he, too, sheltering with me and trusting me-is a grave and serious thing, which, if discovered, might send me to the plantations also, if not the gibbet.'
"'Have no fear,' he said; 'my lord shall give you a quittance to hold you harmless.'
"'He must,' I made answer, 'and more; I must have an earnest of my payment. I will attempt nothing until I receive an earnest.'
"He looked round at the sleeping serving-maid as I spoke, and then he drew forth his silk purse again and shook some guineas out into the palm of his hand, and whispered to me, 'How much will serve, Quin? Eh? Five guineas. Eh? What! More!'
"'Ay, more!' I said. 'Many more. That purse contains forty pieces if one. Give me twenty-five as an earnest and twenty-five to-morrow when we meet again and then, provided that I have the remainder an hour before your friend's brig sails, the boy shall be hoisted on board insensible, and the Dove may take him to Virginia or the devil either for aught I care.'
"And so," Oliver concluded, "he did it. He paid the guineas down-there they are; look at them, lad! And thou art, therefore, bound for Virginia, there to spend thy life, or at least a portion of it, in slavery on the plantations. Ho, ho, ho!" and again he laughed until the rafters rung once more.
CHAPTER V
THE SPRINGE IS SET
Thus Oliver concluded his narrative of his meeting with O'Rourke.
What came of that meeting you are now to see.
But first I must tell you what his own scheme was, and how he intended to work out upon the head of Robert St. Amande the result of his own villainy. My uncle had been married in early life to a young lady of good family and some means-upon which latter he had more or less managed to exist for several years-belonging to the South of Scotland. She had, however, died in giving birth to a son ere they had been married a twelvemonth, and it was as guardian of this son and custodian of his late wife's property, which that son was to inherit when he attained his twenty-first year, that he had, as I say, principally existed. At least he had done so until he devised the scheme of assisting my father to ease himself of the family property, when, naturally, he found more money coming his way than he had heretofore done, and so, perhaps, ceased his inroads on what remained of that which was due to my cousin on reaching his majority.
Whether, however, Roderick St. Amande-who was named after his grandfather, known as Rich Roderick of Dumfries-would ever live to come into his patrimony, or what remained of it, was a very much questioned subject. For the youth, who was some two years older than I, though not a wit bigger, if so big, had already taken to the most dreadful courses and, young as he was, might sometimes be seen reeling tipsy about the streets of Dublin (in which city his father thought fit to generally keep him); sometimes squabbling and rioting with the watch at nights, and sometimes leering over the blinds of the coffee-houses and wine clubs at any comely girl who happened to be passing up or down the streets. Moreover, I suppose, because since my birth he had always regarded me as an interloper who had come in between him and the future peerages of St. Amande and Amesbury, as, had I never been born, he must have eventually succeeded to them, he had always treated me with great cruelty so long as it was in his power to do so. When I was little better than a baby and he an urchin he saw fit to purloin or destroy the toys given me by my mother and my reckless and unhappy father; because I loved a terrier which a tenant had given me as a pup, that unfortunate creature was found drowned in a pool shortly after Roderick had been seen in the neighbourhood, and there were countless other ill treatments which he pleased to practise towards me. And at the time when I was consigned to O'Rourke by my father, who, in his then bemused state, probably did think that he was only secreting me for a while without dreaming of the harm to be attempted on me, this young villain, as I afterwards knew, was one of the prime instigators of that ruffian to make away with me. And, to conclude, when it was known that I had escaped from O'Rourke's hands he it was who, either on his own behalf or on that of his father, raised the hue and cry upon me until, when my own father lay a-dying in his garret, they saw fit to shift their tactics and give out that I was dead, which both father and son would have been consumedly rejoiced to have me.
Now, Oliver Quin knew all this and accordingly hated him as much as he loved me, and he knew also of the young man's habits, of his love for the bottle and for bottle-songs, of his revellings and reelings in the streets by nights and in the early mornings, sometimes in the company of Considine and sometimes in that of worse almost than he; and he formed his plans accordingly when approached by O'Rourke. Those plans were no less, as doubtless you have ere now perceived or guessed, than to take a great revenge on this youth for all his and his father's transgressions towards me, and, in fact, to ship him off to Virginia in the Dove instead of me and in my place.
Such a scheme was easier to be accomplished than might at first be supposed, for more reasons than one. To begin with, when O'Rourke met Oliver on the second night to unfold his plans and concert measures with him, one of the first things the vagabond told my friend was that he must by no means appear to be concerned in my sending away. "It will not do for me to be seen in the matter, Quin," he said on that occasion, on which, because of its importance, they were now closeted in a private room of the house where they had encountered each other overnight; "it will not do. Fortune has caused me to be mixed up before in one or two unpleasant jobs with the Lord Mayor's myrmidons-the devil shoot them! – and I must keep quiet awhile. But that matters not, if you are to be trusted. For see, now, see! The Dove saileth the instant the wind shifts into the east, which it seems like enough to do at any moment. Therefore must you be ready with the freight which we would have. The captain, a right honest man, will send you word overnight at change of wind that he will up-anchor at dawn, and that, as dawn breaks, you must be alongside of him. He will see that the boy answers to my description-though I have said he is a year or so older than he actually is, so as to make him appear more worth the money-and, when he is aboard, you will receive the payment. Thus, Quin, you will have pouched one hundred and twenty guineas, and my lord will stand thy friend."
"Since the wind shifts, or seems like to shift ere long," Oliver replied, fooling him to the end, "let us conclude. Pay me the remaining seventy five pieces and I will have him ready at any moment."
"Nay, nay, softly," the other answered. "Thou wouldst not trust me too far, I guess, therefore neither must I be too confident. Yet listen! I shall not be on the quay when you put off to the Dove, but one who has served me before will be. An honest gentleman he is, too, just back from England where he hath been employed nosing out a Jacobite plot in the north, and to him you will show the lad, whereon he will pay you the guerdon and give you also a letter from my lord which will hold you harmless."
"Is he known to any of us, or to-to, well! to the law and its officers?"
"To none. He hath but just arrived and knows not a soul in Dublin except me and one or two of my friends."
"So be it," said Oliver, well enough pleased to think that this "honest gentleman" would not know the difference between me and my cousin. "So be it. Now, it will be best that the boy should be drugged ere I set out with him-is it not so? – and wrapped in some long cloak so that-"
"Ay, ay," replied the