"Faith, they headed him up in a barr'l, and rowled him into the river."
Moriarty, without another word, got up, left Mr. Piper to his meditations, and strode towards the kitchen.
"Where's the masther?" asked Moriarty of Norah.
He passed through the kitchen, crossed the little hall, and knocked at the sitting-room door.
"Come in," said French's voice, and he entered.
French, Miss Grimshaw, and Bobby Dashwood were seated about the room. The men were smoking and in arm-chairs, Miss Grimshaw was at the table, sitting erect, with her elbows upon it. Her lips were pursed, for they had been discussing Mr. Piper.
"If you plaze, sorr," said Moriarty when French bade him speak, "I've been takin' the size of that chap in the yard."
"And what do you think of him, Moriarty?"
"Faith, sorr, I'm thinkin' he was one of the leftovers whin they was makin' parr'ts, and the divil thried to make a monkey of him, and spiled it in the bakin'. He's no use at all, sorr, to be talked over or talked under."
"We couldn't bribe the man, do you think?" asked Mr. French.
"No, sorr," replied Moriarty, "he's not the man to take a bribe to do a decent turn. He's wan of those chaps that hates his betthers--soci--what d'you call 'em, sorr?"
"I thought he looked like it," said Miss Grimshaw.
"Hang him!" said French. "I thought there was something wrong with the beast besides white liver and Board school----"
"If you plaze, sorr," said Moriarty, with a grin, "I've had a long talk wid him, and he's convarted me."
"Hullo!" said French, staring at his henchman, "what's this you're saying?"
"I've come to b'lave, sorr, in sharin' and sharin' alike. If you plaze, sorr, have you everythin' ready for gettin' the horse away in the mornin'?"
"Getting the horse away!" burst out French, forgetting Moriarty's conversion and everything else in an outburst of rage. "How the dickens do you think I'm to get him away with that beast stuck here?"
"All the same, sorr," replied Moriarty, "if you'll lave things to me, you won't find any thrubble in the mornin', and not for some days afther, I'm thinkin."
"If you plaze, sorr, I'd rather just keep me tongue shut in me head. It's not that I aren't wishful to tell you, sorr, but it's the divil to spake whin you're fishin'. Do you remimber, sorr, young Mr. James and his wife, whin they came to Drumgool, and went out fishin' the black water? Him and she wid a luncheon-basket and tame minnows presarved in bottles of glycerin' and the hoight of fine rods and patent hucks, and landin' nets, and groun' bate, and the Lord knows all; and you could hear thim chatterin' to wan another half a mile away, and the wather thick wid fish. And the divil a thing they caught in three days but a craw-been."