d, or in any other country at
all!"

Suddenly Dyck regained his composure; and it was the composure of one
who had opened the door of hell and had realized that in time--perhaps
not far off--he also would dwell in the infernal place.

"Michael, I have no money, but I'm my father's heir. My father will not
see me starve in prison, nor want for defence, though my attitude shall
be 'no defence.' So bring me decent food and some clothes, and send to
me here Will McCormick, the lawyer. He's as able a man as there is in
Dublin. Listen, Michael, you're not to speak of Mrs. Llyn and Miss Llyn
as related to Erris Boyne. What will come of what you and I know and
don't know, Heaven only has knowledge; but I'll see it through. I've
spoiled as good chances as ever a young man had that wants to make his
way; but drink and cards, Michael, and the flare of this damned life at
the centre--it got hold of me. It muddled, drowned the best that was in
me. It's the witch's kitchen, is Dublin. Ireland's the only place in the
world where they make saints of criminals and pray to them; where they
lose track of time and think they're in eternity; where emotion is
saturnine logic and death is the touchstone of life. Michael, I don't
see any way to safety. Those fellows down at the tavern were friends of
Erris Boyne. They're against me. They'll hang me if they can!"

"I don't believe they can do it, master. Dublin and Ireland think more
of you than they did of Erris Boyne. There's nothing behind you except
the wildness of youth--nothing at all. If anny one had said to me at
Playmore that you'd do the things you've done with drink and cards since
you come to Dublin, I'd have swore they were liars. Yet when all's said
and done, I'd give my last drop of blood as guarantee you didn't kill
Erris Boyne!"

Dyck smiled. "You've a lot of faith in me, Michael--but I'll tell you
this--I never was so thirsty in my life. My mouth's like a red-hot iron.
Send me some water. Give the warder sixpence, if you've got it, and send
me some water. Then go to Will McCormick, and after that to my father."

Michael shook his head dolefully.

"Mr. McCormick's aisy--oh, aisy enough," he said. "He'll lep up at the
idea of defendin' you, but I'm not takin' pleasure in goin' to Miles
Calhoun, for he's a hard man these days. Aw, Mr. Dyck, he's had a lot of
trouble. Things has been goin' wrong with Playmore. 'Pon honour, I don't
know whether anny of it'll last as long as M