“Ha, ha, ha!” chorused Jack; “bravo! he’s a lad of the right sort—ha, ha!”
“He! who?” enquired the attorney.
“Why, the poacher, to be sure,” replied Jack; “who else were we talking about?”
“Beg pardon,” returned Coates; “I thought you might have heard some intelligence. We’ve got an eye upon him. We know who it was.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed Jack; “and who was it?”
“A fellow known by the name of Luke Bradley.”
“Zounds!” cried Titus; “you don’t say it was he? Murder in Irish! that bates everything; why, he was Sir Piers’s—”
“Natural son,” replied the attorney; “he has not been heard of for some time—shockingly incorrigible rascal—impossible to do anything with him.”
“You don’t say so,” observed Jack. “I’ve heard Sir Piers speak of the lad; and, by his account, he’s as fine a fellow as ever crossed tit’s back; only a little wildish and unreasonable, as the best of us may be; wants breaking, that’s all. Your skittish colt makes the best horse, and so would he. To speak the truth, I’m glad he escaped.”
“So am I,” rejoined Titus; “for, in the first place, I’ve a foolish partiality for poachers, and am sorry when any of ’em come to hurt; and, in the second, I’d be mightily displeased if any ill had happened to one of Sir Piers’s flesh and blood, as this young chap appears to be.”
“Appears to be!” repeated Palmer; “there’s no appearing in the case, I take it. This Bradley’s an undoubted offshoot of the old squire. His mother was a servant-maid at the hall, I rather think. You, sir,” continued he, addressing Coates, “perhaps can inform us of the real facts of the case.”
“She was something better than a servant,” replied the attorney, with a slight cough and a knowing wink. “I remember her quite well, though I was but a boy then; a lovely creature, and so taking, I don’t wonder that Sir Piers was smitten with her. He was mad after the women in those days, and pretty Sue Bradley above all others. She lived with him quite like his lady.”
“So I’ve heard,” returned Jack; “and she remained with him till her death. Let me see, wasn’t there something rather odd in the way in which she died, rather suddenish and unexpected—a noise made about it at the time, eh?”
“Not that I ever heard,” replied Coates, shaking his head, and appearing to be afflicted with an instantaneous ignorance; while Titus affected not to hear the remark, but occupied himself with his wine-glass. Small snored audibly. “I was too young, then, to pay any attention to idle rumours,” continued Coates. “It’s a long time ago. May I ask the reason of your enquiry?”
“Nothing further than simple curiosity,” replied Jack, enjoying the consternation of his companions. “It is, as you say, a long while since. But it’s singular how those sort of things are remembered. One would think people had something else to do than talk of one’s private affairs for ever. For my part, I despise such tattle. But there are persons in the neighbourhood who still say it was an awkward business. Amongst others, I’ve heard that this very Luke Bradley talks in pretty plain terms about it.”
“Does he, indeed?” said Coates. “So much the worse for him. Let me once lay hands upon him, and I’ll put a gag in his mouth that shall spoil his talking in future.”
“That’s precisely the point I desire to arrive at,” replied Jack; “and I advise you by all means to accomplish that, for the sake of the family. Nobody likes his friends to be talked about. So I’d settle the matter amicably, were I you. Just let the fellow go his way, he won’t return here again in a hurry, I’ll be bound. As to clapping him in quod, he might prattle—turn stag.”
“Turn stag!” replied Coates, “what the deuce is that? In my opinion he has ‘turned stag’ already. At all events, he’ll pay deer for his night’s sport, you may depend upon it. What signifies it what he says? Let me lay hands upon him, that’s all.”
“Well, well,” said Jack, “no offence. I only meant to offer a suggestion. I thought the family, young Sir Ranulph, I mean, mightn’t like the story to be revived. As to Lady Rookwood, she don’t, I suppose, care much about idle reports. Indeed, if I’ve been rightly informed, she bears this youngster no particular good-will to begin with, and has tried hard to get him out of the country. But, as you say, what does it signify what he says, he can only talk. Sir Piers is dead and gone.”
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