should be the father of the sweet girl at Limerick shakes me. Don't you
see what it means? If I killed him, it spoils everything--everything.
If I didn't kill him, I can only help myself by blackening still more the
life of one who gave being to--"

"Aye, to a young queen!" interrupted Michael.

"God knows, there's none like her in Ireland, 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!"