"If I'm acquitted, I'll take to the high seas--till I'm cured."

A moment later, without further words, Dyck was alone. He heard the door
clang.

He sat for some time on the edge of his bed, buried in dejection.
Presently, however, the door opened. "A letter for you, sir," said the
jailer.




CHAPTER IX

A LETTER FROM SHEILA

The light of the cell was dim, but Dyck managed to read the letter
without great difficulty, for the writing was almost as precise as print.
The sight of it caught his heart like a warm hand and pressed it. This
was the substance of the letter:

MY DEAR FRIEND:

I have wanted to visit you in prison, but my mother has forbidden
it, and so, even if I could be let to enter, I must not disobey her.
I have not read the papers giving an account of your trial. I only
know you are charged with killing a bad man, notorious in Dublin
life, and that many think he got his just deserts in being killed.

I saw Christopher Dogan only a week ago, before we came to Dublin.