The Northern Iron Part 21

"Would you like to drink while you wait? I have whisky in the house."

"No," said Donald.

No one else spoke. Several of the men pa.s.sed their tongues over their dry lips. They would have liked to drink. Their mouths craved for moisture, their nerves for stimulant, but they did not dispute Donald Ward's emphatic refusal of the offer.

THE NORTHERN IRON. 175

Felix Matier rose again. Again he peered at the clock, again he opened the door and looked down the lane. This time he turned almost immediately, and said in a whisper--

"There's a man coming up the lane, a single rider. I hear the tramp of his horse."

He hurried back to his seat, as if he were afraid of being found apart from his comrades, as if he expected to discover safety in being just as they were. Donald Ward took his seat at the head of the table. His pipe was still between his teeth, but he ceased to puff at it. It went out.

The noise of the approaching horse was plainly audible in the room.

Felix Matier suddenly laughed aloud, and then, half chanting the words in a cracked falsetto, quoted--

"What is right and what is wrang by the law?

What is right and what is wrang?

A short sword and a lang, A stout arm and a Strang, For to draw."

"Silence," said Donald.

"It is the man," said Aeneas Moylin, "I hear him putting his horse into the shed. It must be he, for no stranger would know the ways of the place."

James Bigger drew a pistol from his pocket, looked carefully at the priming, c.o.c.ked it, and laid it on the table before him. He sat at the end of the table opposite Donald Ward, and was nearest to the door.

The latch was lifted from without, and James Finlay entered the room.

"You are welcome," said Donald, and every man at the table repeated the words.

Something in the tone of the greeting, some sense of the feeling of those who sat in the room, startled Finlay. He glanced quickly at the faces before him, became deadly white, took a step forward, and then turned to the door. It was shut, and James Bigger, pistol in hand, stood with his back against it. Finlay stood stock still. Neal, looking at him, saw in his eyes an expression of wild terror--an agonised appeal against the horror of death. In a single instant the man had understood that he was to die. Neal felt suddenly sick. Then a faintness overcame him. He leaned back in his chair unable to move or speak. He heard, as if from a great distance, as if out of some other world, his uncle's voice--

"The men you expected are not here, friend Finlay. M'Cracken is busy elsewhere, Munro has an engagement this evening, Hope, whom you let slip through your fingers yesterday, is not here to meet you."

"I wear to you," said Finlay, "that I tried to save Hope yesterday."

Donald took no notice of the words. He went on in a cool, not unfriendly voice--

"We are here instead, and I think we are quite competent to conduct the business for which we have met; but you will agree with us that this house will not be a suitable place for our meeting. We think it possible that Aeneas Moylin's house may be honoured to-night by a visit from some dragoons or yeomen. They will probably be here in half an hour or so.

In the meanwhile, we shall adjourn. There is near at hand a building in which we may do our business with perfect safety. You have heard, no doubt, of the custom of body-s.n.a.t.c.hing. Certain men--resurrectioners, I think, they are called--have of late been robbing the graves of the dead and selling the bodies to the medical schools for the use of students.

The good people of Donegore have built in their churchyard a very strong vault with an iron door, of which Aeneas Moylin keeps the key. Here they lock up the bodies of their dead for some time before burying them--until, in fact, the natural process of decay renders them unsuitable for dissection. This is their plan for defeating the resurrectioners. There is no corpse in the vault to-night. We shall adjourn to it for our meeting. The walls are so thick, I am told, that remarks made even in a loud tone inside will be perfectly inaudible to eavesdroppers. The door is very small, and we can hang a cloak over it, so that our light will not be visible. It will be quite safe, I think; besides, it will be very comforting to think that if one of us should die suddenly his body will not become a prey to the ghoulish people of whom we have been speaking."

He paused. Then, changing his tone, gave a series of orders sharply--

"Bind his hands; gag him; bring a lantern and means of lighting it; bring the key of the vault; leave the light burning in this room. Come."

The orders were quickly obeyed. It was evident that every man had his part a.s.signed to him beforehand, and was ready to perform it. There was no confusion, and no talking.

Aeneas Moylin led the way. Two others followed, holding Finlay, gagged and bound, by the arms. Donald Ward, his sword drawn, brought up the rear. They moved like shadows, silent as the prowling body-s.n.a.t.c.hers of whom Donald had spoken. In front of them, a dark ma.s.s in the June twilight, stood the church, and round it rows and rows of gravestones.

Moylin crossed the stile. Finlay sank helplessly in a heap in front of it. He could not, or would not, put his feet on the stone steps. Without a word his two guards lifted him over and set him down among the graves.

Donald crossed last. Moylin, skirting the north side and east end of the church, led the way to a corner of the cemetery where as yet there were no graves. Here, barely visible among the tangle of brambles, nettles, and high gra.s.s which surrounded it, was the vault. Kneeling down, Moylin fumbled with the lock, turned the key with a harsh, grating sound, and swung open the iron door. It was so low that he had to crawl through.

Once inside, he lit the lantern which he carried, and set it on a projecting ledge of the rough masonry. Finlay was dragged in. The others followed, until only Neal and his uncle stood outside.

"Go next, Neal."

"I cannot, uncle, I cannot. I am not able to bear this. Let me go away."

"No. Go in, Neal. I want you. I shall let you go before the end."

The vault was very small inside. It was hardly possible to stand upright, and there was little room for moving. James Finlay, still bound and gagged, lay at full length on the floor. Round him, their backs against the walls, crouched the other men. Moylin's lantern cast a feeble, smoky light. The air was heavy and close. It was the air of a charnel house.

"Take from the prisoner the arms he has about him," said Donald. "Search his pockets, and hand me any papers you find. Now unbind his hands and free his mouth.

"James Finlay, we are here to do strict justice. You shall have every opportunity of making any defence you can when you hear the charges against you. If you clear yourself you shall go free. If you fail to clear yourself you must abide the sentence we shall p.r.o.nounce on you."

"You mean to murder me," said Finlay.

"We do not mean to murder you. We mean to try you fairly, to acquit or condemn you in strict justice. The first charge against you is this. Having been sworn a member of the United Irishmen's society in Dunseveric, having been elected a member of the committee, you did in Belfast betray the fact that there were cannons hidden in Dunseveric meeting-house, and gave the names of your fellow-members to the military authorities."

"I deny it," said James Finlay. "You have no proof of what you a.s.sert.

Will you murder a man on suspicion?"

"Neal Ward," said Donald, "is this the James Finlay who was sworn into the society by your father?"

"Yes," said Neal.

"Tell us what you know about the visit of the yeomen to Dunseveric."

Neal repeated the story, telling how he knew that his own name was on the list of persons to be arrested. There was a short silence when he had finished. Then James Bigger said--

"You have not proved that charge. The circ.u.mstances are suspicious, but you have proved nothing."

Donald Ward bowed. Finlay raised his eyes for the first time since he had been dragged into the vault, and looked round him. There had risen in him a faint gleam of hope.

"You are charged," said Donald again, "with having provided the dragoons who rioted in Belfast last week with information which led them to attack and wreck the houses of those who are in sympathy with the society."

"I deny it. I was not in Belfast that day. I was here in Donegore with Aeneas Moylin."

"You were here the day before," said Moylin. "You left me that day early. You might have been in Belfast."

"I was not," said Finlay.

Donald Ward produced the sc.r.a.p of paper which Peg Macllrea had taken from the dragoon.

"Is that your handwriting?" he asked.

James Finlay looked at it.

"No," he said.