Confessions Of Con Cregan, the Irish Gil BlasLever, Charles
General
Confessions Of Con Cregan, the Irish Gil Blas
Lever, Charles
Ireland -- Fiction
"Just what I said, sir," said I, with the steady assurance a confidence
of victory gives. "I thought it was better to have able counsel; and as
I know I have the means of recompensing him, the opportunity was lucky."
"You don't pretend that you could afford to engage one like him, my
lad?" said he, affecting, but very poorly, an air of easy composure.
"What could you give him?"
"A note, sir; and although it never issued from the Bank, one not
without value!"
The captain became deadly pale; he made one step towards the door, and
in a low voice of ill-restrained anger said, "I'll have you searched,
sirrah! If anything belonging to me is found upon you--"
"No fear, sir," said I, composedly; "I have taken precautions against
that; the note is safe!"
He threw himself upon a chair, and stared at me steadily for some
minutes without a word. There we were, each scanning the other, and
inwardly calculating how to win the game we were playing.
"Well," said he, at last; "what are your terms? You see I give in."
"And so best," said I; "it saves time. I ask very little from your
honor,--nothing more, in fact, than to have this charge dismissed. I
don't mean to wear rags all my life, and consort with vagabonds, and
so I dislike to have it said hereafter that I was ever arraigned or
committed for an offence like this. You must tell the justice that
it was some blunder or mistake of your orders to me; some accidental
circumstance or other,--I don't much care what, or how; nor will he,
if the explanation comes from _you!_ This done, I 'll place the note in
your hand within half an hour, and we need never see much more of each
other."
"But who is to secure me that you keep your promise?"
"You must trust to me," said I, carelessly; "I have no bail to give."
"Why not return now, with the policeman, for the note, before I speak to
the justice?"
"Then who is to go bail for _you?_" said I, smiling.
"You are a cool fellow, by Jove!" cried he, at the steady impudence
which I maintained in the discussion.
"I had need be," replied I, in a voice very different from the feigned
hardihood of my assumed part. "The boy who has neither a home nor
a friend in the world has little else to rely on, save the cold
recklessness of what may befall him!"
I saw a curl of contempt upon the captain's lip at the energy of this
speech; for now, when, for the first time between us, a single genuine
sentiment broke from me, he deemed it "cant."
"Well!" cried he, "as you wish; I'll speak to the justice, and you shall
be free."
He left the room as he spoke, but in a few moments reentered it, saying,
"All is right! You are discharged! Now for _your_ share of the bargain."
"Where will your honor be in half an hour?"
"At the Club, Foster Place."
"Then I 'll be there with the note," said I.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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