CHAPTER XXIX.
KERRY.
HAVING, as he considered, prepared the ground by acquainting Claude withthe notabilities of the neighborhood, Tait next proceeded to secure aninterview with Kerry. This was by no means an easy matter, as, either byaccident or design, Kerry eluded all the young men's attempts tointerview him. Hitherto he had been accustomed to fish daily in the Lax,but now, doubtless by direction of his master, he forsook his customarysport for some considerable time. His absence speedily roused Tait'ssuspicions.
"Hilliston has succeeded well," said he, after one of these futileattempts to see the old servant. "He has put Jeringham on his guard."
"Paynton, you mean," observed Claude, looking up from his plate. Theywere at breakfast when this conversation took place.
"I thought you had determined in your own mind that he was Jeringham."
"No," said Claude, coloring a little; "I have come round to your opinionin the matter. If Paynton were Jeringham, I don't think Denis Bantrywould be in his service."
"Ah!" remarked Tait sarcastically, "is that the result of reflection orof love?"
"Of love? I don't understand you."
"Yes, you do, Claude. You are in love with Jenny. The last week has onlydeepened your first impressions. I believe she likes you also, and so Iforesee a marriage which will rob me of my friend."
"I am not so certain of that as you are," said Larcher, after a pause."Miss Paynton has given me no hint of her feelings, and our acquaintanceis yet young. Even if I did design to make her my wife, I would have togain her consent, and that of her father. Judging from Paynton's presentattitude that consent would most probably be refused."
Tait did not immediately reply, but stared out of the window with anabsent look in his eyes. The remark changed the current of his ideas.
"I wonder who Paynton can be?" he said at length, with some hesitation."That he is connected with the case I am certain from the way in whichhe has profited by the warning of Hilliston. Like yourself, I have mydoubts regarding his identity with Jeringham, because of Denis Bantry.Who is he? I must go to Horriston to-morrow and find out."
"And what am I to do in the meantime?"
"Hunt out Kerry and learn the truth," said Tait coolly. "I think, afterall, it will be best for you to see him alone. I am a stranger, and hewon't speak before me; but to you, the son of his old master, he mayopen his heart. Once he does that you may learn the truth."
"I doubt it."
"Well, there is a chance. Whatever tie binds Denis to Paynton, you mustnot forget that he is Irish. The Irish are an impulsive and excitablerace, so it is just possible that his feelings may carry him away inyour presence, and he may tell you all we wish to know."
"Do you think he can solve the mystery?"
"Yes. He was in the house when Jeringham came home with your mother; hepicked up the garnet pin, and, it may be, can tell us to whom itbelongs. It may be the property of Hilliston, as is stated in the novel;on the other hand it may belong to your father or to Jeringham. Of onepoint I am sure, the person who owned the pin killed your father. Kerry,or rather Denis Bantry, knows the owner, and consequently the murderer."
"If so, why did he not denounce him?"
"There you puzzle me," said Tait, rising to his feet; "that is one ofthe many mysteries of this case. Only Denis can explain, and he may doso to you. I shall stay at home this morning, and prepare for my journeyto Horriston; but you had better take your fishing rod and go to yourpost."
The post alluded to was on the banks of the Lax, where for the past weekthe young men had patiently waited for the appearance of Denis. On thismorning Claude found himself alone for the first time; and sat down witha disconsolate air, for he had little hope that Denis would make hisappearance. In this surmise he was wrong, for scarcely had he beenseated half an hour when the Irishman came slowly along on the oppositebank of the river.
He was a little old man, gray as a badger, with stooped shoulders, and across-looking face. Without vouchsafing a look in Claude's direction, heprepared his fishing tackle and began industriously to whip the stream.Hardly knowing how to break the ice, Larcher silently continued hissport, and the two, divided by the water, stood like statues on oppositebanks.
After a time Denis, who had been cunningly taking stock of Claude, andwondering why his letter had not produced the effect intended, moveddown to where the stream narrowed itself between large stones.Determined to invent some excuse for speaking, Larcher followed after atime, and stepped out on to a bowlder, apparently to throw his line intoa likely looking pool. Being within reach, he flung his line, and thenext moment it was entangled in that of Kerry's.
"I'm sorry! Quite an accident," said Claude, noting the wrath on Kerry'sface. "Let me disentangle it."
He jumped into the brown water and, before Kerry could make anyobjection, was across on the other side, gripping the lines. Without aword the Irishman let him separate the two lines, and then busiedhimself with fixing a fly. Nettled at this determined silence Claudespoke.
"I wish to speak with you," he said, tapping the other on the shoulder.
"Is it to me ye speak?" replied Kerry, with an admirable look ofsurprise; "and what has the like of you, sir, to say to me?"
"A great deal. Do you know who I am?"
"Sure, an' I do, sir. The friend of Mr. Tait, you are no less."
"But my name. Do you know it?"
"Bad luck to this stream, there's never a fish in it," grumbled Kerry,with a convenient attack of deafness.
Claude was in nowise angered.
"That is very clever, Kerry," he said; "but----"
"An' how do you know my name is Kerry?"
"Are you surprised that I should know it?"
"I am that," replied Kerry sharply. "I never set eyes on you before."
"Oh, yes, you did--twenty-five years ago."
"Begorra, that's a lie, anyhow!" muttered Kerry, under his breath, withan uneasy wriggle.
"It is not a lie, and you know it, my man," said Larcher firmly; "it isno use your pretending ignorance. I know who you are."
"Devil a doubt of it! Kerry, you called me."
"Yes! Because you are known by that name here. But at Horriston----"
Claude stopped. He saw the hands of the old man grip the rod so tightthat the knuckles whitened. The name had produced the effect heintended. So, almost without a pause, he continued, and aimed anotherblow at Kerry's imperturbability. "At Horriston," he resumed, "you wereknown as Denis Bantry."
"Was I, now?" said Kerry, prepared for the attack. "Augh, to think ofit! And where might Horriston be, sir?"
"You ought to know that, Denis."
"Your honor will be after giving me the name of a friend of yours."
"Quite right," rejoined Claude, seizing the opportunity. "You were--nay,you are--a friend of mine. I am the little lad you carried in yourarms--to whom you told stories, and sang songs. Children forget a greatdeal, but I have not forgotten you, Denis."
In dogged silence the old man turned his head away, intently bent on hissport, but suddenly he raised the cuff of his coat and wiped away abetraying tear. Seeing that he had touched the man's sympathy, Claudefollowed up his advantage.
"You are not going to deny me, Denis, are you?" he said entreatingly. "Iam down here on an errand which you must guess. If Hilliston----"
"The curse of Cromwell on him!" said Kerry, under his breath.
"If Hilliston told you to keep silent," said Claude, affecting to takeno notice of the interjection, which confirmed his suspicions, "I, theson of your dead master, want you to speak. I wish to find out whokilled my father. I wish to punish him, for you know his name."
Kerry turned furiously on the young man, but it seemed to Claude thathis anger was feigned to hide a deeper emotion.
"It is a dirty informer you'd have me be," he cried, with a stamp of hisfoot, "to betray him whose bread I eat. I'll tell you nothing, for it'sthat m
uch I know."
"Denis----"
"I'm not Denis! It's Kerry I am. I know nothing of Horriston, or of you,sir. Go away with ye, young gentleman, and don't be after disgracing anold servant to play the spy and cheat."
Then, still breathing fury, he rushed away, but paused some distance offto raise his hands to the sky with an appealing gesture. The impulsiveIrish nature had broken through diplomatic reserve, and, fearful ofsaying too much, Kerry saved himself by flight. Claude guessed this andforebore to follow him.
"I have broken the ice at all events," he said to himself, whenreturning to the Manor to tell Tait. "The next time I may be fortunateenough to force the truth out of him. He knows it, I am certain. Hehates Hilliston and loves me. I can easily guess with whom hesympathizes, in spite of his master. He is Denis, sure enough, but whois Paynton?"
It was impossible to say.