“‘Come, now, show me the shpot where yer father last saw the min!’ Murdock spoke authoritatively, and the other responded mechanically, and ran rather than walked, along the side of the Hill. Suddenly he stopped.
“‘Here’s the shpot!’ he said, and incontinently tumbled down.
“‘Git up! Wake up!’ shouted Murdock in his ear. But the whiskey had done its work; the man slept, breathing heavily and stentoriously, heedless of the storm and the drenching rain. Murdock gathered a few stones and placed them together; I could hear the sound as they touched each other. Then he, too, took a pull at the bottle, and sat down beside Moynahan. I moved off a little, and when I came to a whin bush got behind it for a little shelter, and raising myself, looked round. We were quite close to the edge of the bog, about half-way between Joyce’s house and Murdock’s, and well in on Joyce’s land. I was not satisfied as to what Murdock would do, so I waited.
“Fully an hour went by without any stir, and then I heard Murdock trying to awaken old Moynahan. I got down on the ground again and crawled over close to them. I heard Murdock shake the old man, and shout in his ear; presently the latter awoke, and the Gombeen Man gave him another dose of whiskey. This seemed to revive him a little as well as to complete his awakening.
“‘Musha, but it’s cowld l am!’ he shivered.
“‘Begor it is. Git up and come home,’ said Murdock, and he dragged the old man to his feet.
“‘Hould me up, Murtagh,’ said the latter; ‘I’m that cowld I can’t shtand, an’ me legs is like shtones: I can’t feel them at all, at all!’
“‘All right,’ said the other; ‘walk on a little bit — sthraight — as ye’re goin’ now; I’ll just shtop to cork the bottle.’
“From my position I could see their movements, and as I am a living man, Art, I saw Murdock turn him with his face to the bog, and send him to walk straight to his death!”
“Good God, Dick, are you quite certain?”
“I haven’t the smallest doubt on my mind. I wish I could have, for it’s a terrible thing to remember. That attempt to murder in the dark and the storm, comes between me and sleep. Moreover, Murdock’s action the instant after showed only too clearly what he intended. He turned quickly away, and I could hear him mutter as he moved past me on his way down the Hill:
“‘He’ll not throuble me now, curse him! an’ his share won’t be required,’ and then he laughed a low, horrible laugh, slow and harsh, and as though to himself; and I heard him say:
“‘An’ whin I do get the chist, Miss Norah, ye’II be the nixt!’”
My blood began to boil as I heard of the villain’s threat.
“Where is he Dick? He must deal with me for that.”
“Steady, Art, steady!” and Dick laid his hand on me.
“Go on,” I said.
“I couldn’t go after him, for I had to watch Moynahan, whom I followed close, and I caught hold of as soon as I thought Murdock was too far to see me. I was only just in time, for as I touched him he staggered, lurched forward, and was actually beginning to sink in the bog. It was a tone of those spots where the rock runs sheer down into the morass. It took all my strength to pull him out, and when I did get him on the rock he sank down again into his drunken sleep. I thought the wisest thing I could do was to go to Joyce’s for help; and as, thanks to my experiments with the magnets all those weeks, I knew the ground fairly well, I was able to find my way — although the task was a slow and difficult one.
“When I got near I saw a light at the window. My rubber boots, I suppose, and the plash of the falling rain dulled my footsteps, for as I drew near I could see that a man was looking in at the window, but he did not hear me. I crept up behind the hedge and watched him. He went to the door and knocked — evidently not for the first time; then the door was opened, and I could see Joyce’s figure against the light that came from the kitchen.
“‘Who’s there? What is it?’ he asked. Then I heard Murdock’s voice.
“I’m lukin’ for poor ould Moynahan. He was out on the Hill in the evenin’, but he hasn’t kem home, an’ I’m anxious about him, for he had a sup in him, an’ I fear he may have fallen into the bog. I’ve been out lukin’ for him, but I can’t find him. I thought he might have kem in here.’
“‘No, he has not been here. Are you sure he was on the hill?’
“‘Well, I thought so; but what ought I to do? I’d be thankful if ye’d advise me. Be the way, what o’clock might it be now?’
“Norah, who had joined her father, ran in and looked at the clock.
“‘It is just ten minutes past twelve,’ she said.
“‘I don’t know what’s to be done,’ said Joyce. ‘Could he have got to the sheebeen?’
“‘That’s a good idea. I suppose I’d betther go there an’ luk afther him. Ye see, I’m anxious about him, for he’s been livin’ wid me, an’ if anythin’ happened to him, people might say I done it!’
“‘That’s a queer thing for him to say,’ said Norah to her father.
“Murdock turned on her at once.
“‘Quare thing — no more quare than the things they’ll be sayin’ about you before long.’
“‘What do you mean?’ said Joyce, coming out.
“‘Oh, nawthin’, nawthin’! I must look for Moynahan.’ And without a word he turned and ran. Joyce and Norah went into the house. When Murdock had quite gone I knocked at the door, and Joyce came out like a thunder-bolt.
“‘I’ve got ye now, ye ruffian!’ he shouted. ‘What did ye mean to say to me daughter?’ But by this time I stood in the light, and he recognised me.
“‘Hush!’ I said; ‘let me in quietly;’ and when I passed in we shut the door. Then I told them that I had been out on the mountain, and had found Moynahan. I told them both that they must not ask me any questions, or let on to a soul that I had told them anything — that much might depend on it; for I thought, Art, old chap, that they had better not be mixed up in it, however the matter might end. So we all three went out with a lantern, and I brought them to where the old man was asleep. We lifted him, and between us carried him to the house; Joyce and I undressed him and put him in bed, between warm blankets. Then I came away and went over to Mrs. Kelligan’s, where I slept in a chair before the fire.
“The next morning when I went up to Joyce’s I found that Moynahan was all right — that he hadn’t even got a cold, but that he remembered nothing whatever about his walking into the bog. He had even expressed his wonder at seeing the state his clothes were in. When I went into the village I found that Murdock had been everywhere and had told everyone of his fears about Moynahan. I said nothing of his being safe, but tried quietly to arrange matters so that I might be present when Murdock should set his eyes for the first time on the man he had tried to murder. I left him with a number of others in the sheebeen, and went back to bring Moynahan, but found, when I got to Joyce’s that he had already gone back to Murdock’s house. Joyce had told him, as we had arranged, that when Murdock had come asking for him he had been alarmed, and had gone out to look for him; had found him asleep on the hill-side, and had brought him home with him. As I found that my scheme of facing Murdock with his victim was frustrated, I took advantage of Murdock’s absence to remove the stones which he had placed to mark the spot where the treasure was last seen. I found them in the form of a cross, and moving them, replaced them at a spot some distance lower down the line of the bog. I marked the place, however, with a mark of my own — four stones put widely apart at the points of a letter Y — the centre