THE INVINCIBLES
THE proceedings of Lord Harry after he had sent off that cheque were
most remarkable. If he had invited--actually courted--what followed--he
could not have acted differently.
He left London and crossed over to Dublin.
Arrived there, he went to a small hotel entirely frequented by Irish
Americans and their friends. It was suspected of being the principal
place of resort of the Invincibles. It was known to be a house entirely
given up to the Nationalists. He made no attempt to conceal his name.
He entered the hotel, greeted the landlord cheerfully, saluted the head
waiter, ordered his dinner, and took no notice of the sullen looks with
which he was received or the scowls which followed him about the
coffee-room, where half a dozen men were sitting and talking, for the
most part in whispers.
He slept there that night.
The next day, still openly and as if there was nothing to fear, either
from England or from Ireland, he walked to the station and took his
ticket, paying no attention to what all the world might have seen and
understood--that he was watched. When he had taken his ticket two men
immediately afterwards took tickets to the same place. The place where
he was going was that part of Kerry where the Invincibles had formerly
assassinated Arthur Mountjoy.
The two men who followed him--who took their tickets for the same
place--who got into the same carriage with him--were two members of
that same fraternity. It is well known that he who joins that body and
afterwards leaves it, or disobeys its order, or is supposed to betray
its secrets, incurs the penalty of death.
On the unexpected arrival of Lord Harry at this hotel, there had been
hurriedly called together a meeting of those members then in Dublin. It
was resolved that the traitor must be removed. Lots were cast, and the
lot fell upon one who remembered past acts of kindness done by Lord
Harry to his own people. He would fain have been spared this business,
but the rules of the society are imperative. He must obey.
It is the practice of the society when a murder has been resolved upon
to appoint a second man, whose duty it is to accompany the murderer and
to see that he executes his task.
In the afternoon, about an hour before sunset, the train arrived at the
station where Lord Harry was to get down. The station-master recognised
him, and touched his hat. Then he saw the two other men got down after
him, and he turned pale.
"I will leave my portmanteau," said Lord Harry, "in the cloak-room. It
will be called for."
Afterwards the station-master remembered those words. Lord Harry did
not say "I will call for it," but "It will be called for." Ominous
words.
The weather was cold; a drizzling rain fell; the day was drawing in.
Lord Harry left the station, and started with quick step along the
road, which stretched across a dreary desolate piece of country.
The two men walked after him. One presently quickened his step, leaving
the second man twenty yards behind.
The station-master looked after them till he could see them no longer.
Then he shook his head and returned to his office.
Lord Harry walking along the road knew that the two men were following
him. Presently he became aware that one of them was quickening his
pace.
He walked on. Perhaps his cheeks paled and his lips were set close,
because he knew that he was walking to his death.
The steps behind him approached faster--faster. Lord Harry never even
turned his head. The man was close behind him. The man was beside him.
"Mickey O'Flynn it is," said Lord Harry.
"'Tis a ---- traitor, you are," said the man.
"Your friends the Invincibles told you that, Mickey. Why, do you think
I don't know, man, what are you here for? Well?" he stopped. "I am
unarmed. You have got a revolver in your hand--the hand behind your
back. What are you stopping for?"
"I cannot," said the man.
"You must, Mickey O'Flynn--you must; or it's murdered you'll be
yourself," said Lord Harry, coolly. "Why, man, 'tis but to lift your
hand. And then you'll be a murderer for life. I am another--we shall
both be murderers then. Why don't you fire, man."
"By ---- I cannot!" said Mickey. He held the revolver behind him, but
he did not lift his arm. His eyes started: his mouth was open; the
horror of the murderer was upon him before the murder was committed.
Then he started. "Look!" he cried. "Look behind you, my lord!"
Lord Harry turned. The second man was upon him. He bent forward and
peered in his face.
"Arthur Mountjoy's murderer!" he cried, and sprang at his throat.
One, two, three shots rang out in the evening air. Those who heard them
in the roadside cabin, at the railway-station on the road, shuddered.
They knew the meaning of those shots. One more murder to load the soul
of Ireland.
But Lord Harry lay dead in the middle of the road.
The second man got up and felt at his throat.
"Faith!" he said, "I thought I was murdered outright. Come, Mick, let
us drag him to the roadside."
They did so, and then with bent heads and slouched hats, they made
their way across country to another station where they would not be
recognised as the two who had followed Lord Harry down the road.
Two mounted men of the Constabulary rode along an hour later and found
the body lying where it had been left.
They searched the pockets. They found a purse with a few sovereigns;
the portrait of a lady---the murdered man's wife--a sealed envelope
addressed to Hugh Mountjoy, Esq, care of his London hotel; and a
card-case: nothing of any importance.
"It is Lord Harry Norland," said one. "The wild lord--he has met his
end at last."
The letter to Iris was brief. It said:
"Farewell! I am going to meet the death of one who is called a Traitor
to the Cause. I am the Traitor of a Cause far higher. May the end that
is already plotted for me be accepted as an atonement! Forgive me,
Iris! Think of me as kindly as you can. But I charge you--it is my
latest word--mourn not for one who has done his best to poison your
life and to ruin your soul."
In the other letter he said:
"I know the affection you have always entertained for Iris. She will
tell you what she pleases about the past. If she tells you nothing
about her late husband, think the worst and you will not be wrong.
Remember that whatever she has done was done for me and at my
instigation. She ought to have married you instead of me.
"I am in the presence of Death. The men who are going to kill me are
under this very roof. They will kill me, perhaps to-night. Perhaps they
will wait for a quieter and a safer place. But they will kill me.
"In the presence of Death, I rise superior to the pitiful jealousy with
which I have always regarded you. I now despise it. I ask your pardon
for it. Help Iris to forget the action of her life of which she has
most reason to be ashamed. Show that you forgive me--when you have
forgiven her--and when you have helped her in the warmth and strength
of your love to drive me out of your thoughts for ever.
"H. N."