From what occurred later McParlan believed his friend Sweeney had been waiting for his coming, when he found that person on the street, near the lamp-post. But he said nothing, and gave no marked attention to the manner in which McAndrew's premises were watched, but entered as if everything had been about as usual. McAndrew received him graciously, and yet with a degree of constraint, probably, as McKenna thought, perfectly consistent with the changed relations now existing between them. After greetings, Sweeney came into the room, looked carefully around, said a few words, in a joking way, and went outside again. He remarked as he left the doorway that he was going home, but could not have done so, for, in a little while, he reentered the bar, having a bit of snow in his hand. Watching 487closely the movements of the man, while, to all outward intents and purposes, earnestly engaged in smoking his pipe and reading a newspaper, McKenna saw Sweeney toss the piece of snow toward McAndrew, who was sitting by the stove. McAndrew looked up, stretched out his legs, yawned a little, gazed for one moment on the face of the detective, then said: "My feet are sore! I guess I'll take off my brogues!"
The Bodymaster suited action to his words and proceeded to doff his wet and heavy miners' boots, and replace them with a pair of easy slippers. At this, still silently and carefully observed by the seemingly absorbed McKenna, Sweeney curled his lip disdainfully, and once more left the apartment. From the movements he had seen the agent was almost sure that something had been arranged—felt suspicious of everybody and everything—and the snow tossed by Sweeney, and the taking off of McAndrew's boots, were, to his excited imagination, signals having some reference to his own case. But he had no desire to let those about him think he was in fear of his life. It seemed far better to put on a bold, defiant front and face the music, which he did. At last, his pipe being out, he asked:
"Well, McAndrew, what about the matin' for the morrow? Be every thing all ready?"
"Yes! I've engaged the hall and it is all right! I hope there'll be a large attendance!"
"So do I! An' I don't care how soon the lies on me are disposed of! It's mighty upsettin' to me nerves to have such charges restin' again me reputation as an Ancient Order man!"
McAndrew was, like Sweeney, not in a talkative mood, and, after vainly attempting to draw him into a conversation, the accused man bid his glum companion good night, left the house and started on his journey toward Cooney's residence, where he then made his temporary home. Once well in the 488street, he cast his eyes anxiously around in the darkness, expecting to find Sweeney, or some other Mollie, lingering in the vicinity. But he did not. Everything was quiet, somber, and in doubt. Something seemed to say to him, "Do not go home by the usual route, but take some other!" and he accepted the suggestion as sensible, struck boldly into the swamp, at the risk of losing his footing, getting wet and muddy, finally crossed over, and came out in front of his boarding-house. His heart felt appreciably more buoyant when he saw a light shining from the window at Cooney's, and he knew the family were expecting him. He entered, was cordially received, but soon retired to his room. He afterward confessed to not sleeping much that night. After an unrefreshing season in bed, he arose early, swallowed his breakfast, and went over to see McAndrew. Thence he took a walk up-town, meeting Ned Monaghan and a fellow named Carlin, the latter being Bodymaster at St. Nicholas. Florence Mahony, of Turkey Run, was also seen, but the hall was otherwise deserted. Nobody seemed to come to the convention, and it struck the accused Mollie that Kehoe was surely playing him false, and had never forwarded the notifications prepared at his house. A little after ten o'clock, a couple of drunken men arrived from Mt. Laffee—or at least one was a little intoxicated and the other feigned to be so. These fellows, Dennis Dowling and Mickey Doyle—not Michael J. Doyle, the Sanger and Uren murderer, but another person and no relative—said they had just stepped off the cars, when everybody in town knew no trains of any sort came in at that hour. They were Mollies, and Dowling was a big, red-complexioned man. After a time, all present made up their minds there would be no convention, and those in the hall adjourned to McAndrew's saloon, where Dowling asked McKenna what the meeting was about.
"Don't you know? Didn't you understand what you were called together fur?"
489"No!"
"Well, somebody, I don't know who, have said that I am a detective—which is a lie—and I demanded a trial before the assembled Bodymasters of the county. Kehoe granted it, sent the orders, and here the hour is past and no convention comes. Even Kehoe himself kapes away!"
"I won't believe the story about you, McKenna," exclaimed Dowling. Thereupon, to express his peculiar satisfaction, McKenna, as was expected, invited the crowd to drink with him. None refused the chance. Then McAndrew took McKenna into a rear room and left him there. Doyle, who was drinking very hard, was soon very drunk and some one had to take him away and put him to bed.
The failure of the convention was a great disappointment to the agent. He readily charged the non-arrival of the delegates to Kehoe's door. It was more than probable he never intended to grant an investigation, but had held out the inducement in order to quiet McKenna, keep him in the locality, and manage, through some of his cut-throats, to have him murdered. The suspected Mollie made up his mind that he would pay the County Delegate a visit and institute strict inquiry as to the cause of the late adjournment. McAndrew insisted upon accompanying him, and, in order that he might have witnesses, he went out with his Bodymaster, hired horses and a sleigh, and paid for another cutter and horse for Monaghan. Dowling accompanied the ex-constable, McAndrew and McKenna leading the way over the snow-covered rto Girardville.
"How is this thing, any way, Frank?" asked McKenna of McAndrew, as the latter laid the lash upon the horses and they sped away swiftly over the hills. "I can't understand it at all! I am charged with guilt, am given an investigation before a county committee, the matin' fails, an' now Ned Monaghan and Dennis Dowling are goin' wid us to see Kehoe! What have they to do wid the subject 490when there's no convention? It's all a muddle to me enthirely!"
McAndrew was driving over a particularly rough piece of rat the moment and did not answer until smooth traveling was reached, then, when well out of the hearing of the others, he said:
"'That man, who is riding in the sleigh behind you, calculates to take your life!'"
"Look here, McKenna, let me say a word to ye in confidence, while I have the opportunity! You had better look out, for that man, who is riding in the sleigh behind you, calculates to take your life! Dennis Dowling is the one! Have you got your pistols ready?"
"Faith an' I always hev them, but little use will they be to me if I get in a crowd an' Dowling lets on that I am to be killed! Fur I know that he'll find plenty to help him! Innocent or guilty, it makes no difference!"
"Well, I have me revolver here, an' I mean to stand by you! I'll lose my life for ye! I don't know whether you're a detective or not, but I have nothing against you! I always knew you to do the right thing by me an' those you were with, an' until proven a traitor, which I can't believe ye are, I'll keep with you! Why don't they try a man fairly, an' not seek to take his life on mere suspicion?"
"I thank ye, Frank McAndrew!" was all the detective could say as the slim hold he had upon the things of this world was suddenly realized. "I'll sell me life dearly, as the miscreants shall find if they make a movement to attack me. I'll kape a sharp eye out for Mr. Dowling! That will I!"
From that moment, while riding, McParlan sat a little sideways, in the cutter, with one eye upon the couple behind them.
When they came to Anthony Munley's tavern, the four men alighted and entering enjoyed something to refresh the inner man. But McKenna avoided talking with Dowling, who, more than once, endeavored to draw him into a wordy dispute. With his eye constantly upon the the burly fellow and his hand in his overcoat pocket, where slept snugly one of his 491brace of trusty repeaters, he mixed with the crowd and chatted unconcernedly about the general topics of the day. He was closely attended by McAndrew, and this was particularly noted by Dowling, who had no desire to interfere with the Bodymaster's charge while thus under his immediate care.
After leaving Munley's, McAndrew positively informed McKenna that he had saved him from death, and that Kehoe, instead of keeping the detective company on the cars, as he had promised, came to Shenandoah by himself the previous afternoon. He gathered together all the Mollies in the place, spent a great amount of money among them, and, in the presence of others, begged him, McAndrew, for God's sake, to have that man, McKenna, killed, or he would "hang half the people in Schuylkill County!"
"Did he say that?"
"I consented," continued McAndrew, not noticing the inquiry, "and Kehoe went home satisfied. I didn't know but you might be guilty, and, at first, I intended to act in good faith toward my agreement with Jack, but my heart afterward misgave me, and I couldn't do the thing! I wouldn't do it! But others did prepare for your arrival at the crossing, and as they were afraid to shoot you, because it would make too much noise, twelve or fourteen of the fellows gathered at the bank, knowin' you'd be up by the late train—fur Kehoe had told us you were comin'—but you did not get off then—your life was spared; and I was very thankful it was so; and, from that moment, decided I would have nothing to do with the affair. Some of the boys had hatchets and clubs and axes, picks and iron bars, and others such sledges as they use in the mines. If you had stepped off the train, at that place, you would surely have been killed, cast into a wagon, which was in waiting for the purpose, and then tossed down a deserted shaft, where, had your body ever been discovered, it would have been supposed, by all exceptin' your oath-bound murderers, that you 492had fallen in, in the darkness, and met an accidental death. Kehoe planned the whole thing, inspired the men with spirits, an' then informed 'em you had no relatives or friends in the world, an' you would never be inquired for! But, Jim, to save my sweet sowl, I couldn't hev any hand in it, an' I staid at me house, an' when you jist popped in upon me there, last night, and I learned you had escaped the evil gang, an Sweeney hadn't been able to kill you while ye were walkin' wid him to my place, I blessed God that I hadn't stained me hands wid yer innocent blood! An' as Sweeney tossed the bit o' snow to me—I believe you saw it—I gave him answer, by the takin' off me boots, that, so long as you were wid me, you should be protected, and come to no harm; an' more'n that, I'd have no share in the affair from that moment forward. Sweeney went away mad! I couldn't help it! I was afraid they would wait for ye over night, or go to Cooney's an' kill ye, so, after ye were out, I watched ye, an' saw ye go across the swamp; and then I knew ye were safe! Jim, I mane to stand by ye to the last drop of my blood! If Dowling undertakes the job, this day, or Jack Kehoe himself interferes, they'll have to get to ye over my dead body!"
McParlan warmly pressed the hand of his friend, could not speak his gratitude, but determined that, thereafter, if he could do Frank McAndrew a good turn he would. But there was little time for talk, and none for forming schemes.
"You'll find I'm telling ye the truth, and that ye are in queer company this very minute!"
"I don't give a cent!" exclaimed the detective. "I'm in fur it, an' I am able, backed by you, to defend meself! They have accused me wrongfully, an' I mane to have justice! I'm goin' to Jack Kehoe's to face him down in it!"
McAndrew smiled.
"An' why do ye laugh? It may be fun for some, but I'm in no jesting humor!"
493"I meant no harm, and was only thinkin' what Jack Kehoe will say or believe when he sees ye marchin' into his house, all alive an' well, when he at this time supposes ye are lyin' at the bottom of the auld shaft, food for the rats!"
"I can't help what he may say or think! I'm goin' there, sure, an' if he wants me killed perhaps he'll have the bouldness to try the job with his own two hands!"
In a few minutes the four persons alighted from their respective conveyances in front of Kehoe's house, in Girardville, and McKenna suddenly made his appearance before the County Delegate, with McAndrew at his side. Monaghan and Dowling were not far away. Never was a man more surprised than Kehoe. He had twice essayed to clear that troublesome McKenna from his path, and the last time invoked, and thought he had secured the assistance of so many good men at the business that he believed he could not fail. Still, here was the man, McKenna, in the flesh, unharmed, and sternly confronting him. Evidently his plans had not worked well. McKenna still lived, and was in company with one of the very men who had promised him to aid in the assassin's bloody work. The County Delegate's crafty, narrow face was as white as a sheet of paper, and his whole body shivered with an ague fit. It needed the sound of McKenna's voice to recall him to himself.
"Well, Mister Kehoe, what about that county matin'? It seems the Bodymasters did not get together—at laste only a few of them—an' me trial seems to be a total failure!"
Jack placed some tumblers on the counter, in a crooked row. took down a bottle, spilled much of its contents untidily over the counter, succeeded in controlling his anger, resentment, and disappointment, and answered:
"Well, you see, I came to the conclusion that there was no use in tryin' you——"
"That's what I thought at the start!" interrupted McKenna.
494"There was little use in gettin' together a crowd at Shenandoah!"
"So you have taken a good deal of trouble to see that no crowd was gathered?"
"There's no use talkin'," answered Kehoe. "The trial can't take place!"
"What am I to do, then? Rest under this suspicion as long as you may choose to keep me down? I'll not do it!"
"If you don't desire to wait, you can go to Father O'Connor about it! Maybe he'll tell you something!"
"I'm only wantin' to find out who makes up these lyin' charges! That I want to know! The story of the conductor on the train is a downright lie! It's too thin! You never heard such a thing, but have got it up in order to have me put out of your way!"
"Go to Father O'Connor! It's all I have to say!"
And Kehoe turned aside and spoke to others. But he kept his unsteady eye on McKenna.
"Well, I'll go to Father O'Connor! He'll do me justice widout doubt! An', Misther Kehoe, look here a little!" and the detective pulled his two heavy pistols from behind his back and again thumped the counter with their butts, loudly enforcing attention to his speech:
"I don't care for you, or fur any wan here, or in the county! I'm an innocent, ill-used man, an' ye are tryin' to have me shot; but listen to this! I'm all ready, an' will sell me chances at the highest! I'll go see Father O'Connor, an' then possibly I'll have a settlement wid you, Jack Kehoe!"
Seeing that McKenna was becoming excited, and not knowing but Dowling might pluck up courage to shoot while in the room, McAndrew seized his friend by the arm, advised him to put up his pistols, and walked with him out of the place. He was right in this, as Phil Nash, Dave 495Kelly and Tom Donahue, beside Dowling and Monaghan, had gathered there, any one of whom, had Kehoe said the word, would have finished the trouble with a pistol shot from the rear. McAndrew talked the matter over with the others, after McKenna was once in the sleigh, and it was determined to drive to Father O'Connor's house at once.
When the four men, McKenna, McAndrew, Monaghan, and Dowling, reached Callaghan's place, at Mahanoy Plane, who should be there ahead of them but Phil Nash and Tom Donahue. It was suspicious, the detective thought, but said nothing. They had heard that McKenna was going to see Father O'Connor, but might possibly have had other business at the Plane. Donahue and Nash took McAndrew some distance away, and held quite a talk with him. The agent was on the alert, and saw, from their gesticulations, that the two men were endeavoring to induce his friend to do something, but he obstinately refused. Dowling and Monaghan finally joined the group and the remonstrances with McAndrew were resumed.
While the rest were talking, McKenna went to Father O'Connor's house with Callaghan, but was told the priest was absent in Philadelphia, and not expected back until the next day. By the time he got back the sleigh was ready. Dowling was very drunk and McAndrew in haste to leave. They entered the cutter and started, followed by Monaghan alone, as Dowling was too much overcome to take along.
"What was the matter at Callaghan's?" inquired McKenna.
"The same thing," was McAndrew's reply. "They wanted to kill you right here! Dowling tried hard to have me lend him my revolver! But I wouldn't allow it! Had they succeeded in disarming me, you could not have lived one minute. I would be unable to defend you, and not another in the crowd would interfere. Dowling was armed, but he didn't want to hurt me, and I told them sternly they couldn't have their way wid you while I lived."
496"I was on the watch for Dowling," said the operative, "and had he made a motion toward me, I'd have shot him! My life is as dear to me as that of another man to him, an' I'll not be murdered widout hurting some of them!"
But Dowling was too much intoxicated to do anything, and Monaghan, becoming disgusted, drove off and left him. Having failed to extract any satisfaction from Kehoe, or see Father O'Connor, McAndrew and McKenna, still accompanied by Monaghan, drove directly to Shenandoah. By the time they reached McAndrew's saloon, after putting up their teams and settling the livery bill, it was night. McAndrew took the operative to his home, where he remained undisturbed until his bedtime, when he started up to return to Cooney's, thinking he would again take the route through the swamp.
"Good night, Frank!" said McKenna. "It's time for me to be joggin'!"
"Where to?"
"To me boarding-house, av coorse!"
"Not to-night!" replied McAndrew, earnestly.
"An' why not?"
"Never mind why not; but you are to sleep wid me! My wife is away from home. There's plenty of room, an we are to be bedfellows!"
And the detective did sleep at McAndrew's, and, as the reader may well suppose, was very glad of the opportunity. Nothing occurred, however, to disturb the two men.
The ensuing morning, by the first train, McParlan returned to Pottsville, made out and mailed his report, and found a chance to communicate privately with Capt. Linden. He had appointed to meet McAndrew at Mahanoy Plane the afternoon of that day. Once more Linden urged him not to go without being shadowed by him, as he was sure they were laying plans for killing him. The operative said he would make one more attempt to prove his character good 497before the priest. Then, if unsuccessful, he could either abandon that course or allow his friend to keep him under surveillance.
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