The Red Hand of Ulster Part 9

"Not a paying proposition?" said Conroy.

"Oh," I said, "it paid very well; but the fact is, what with the agitation about grazing lands, and the trouble about people in congested districts--"

"I reckon," said Conroy, "that your ancestors mismanaged the property some."

I expect they did. But I did not expect to have their misdeeds brought home to me in a vigorous personal way.

"Your father," said Conroy, "or your grandfather, turned my grandfather off a patch of land down there in 1850."

My grandfather had, I have heard, a theory that small holdings of land were uneconomic. He evicted his tenants and made large gra.s.s farms.

Nowadays we hold the opposite opinion. We are evicting large tenants and establis.h.i.+ng small holdings. Our grandsons, I dare say, will go back again to the large farms. I explained to Conroy that he ought not to blame my grandfather who was acting in accordance with the most advanced scientific theories of his time.

Conroy was very nice about the matter. He said he had no grudge against either me or my grandfather. He had, however, so he told me frankly, a prejudice against everything English; an inherited prejudice, and not quite so irrational as it looked. It was after all the English who invented the economic theories on which my grandfather acted. He talked so much about his dislike of England and everything English that I did not like to introduce the subject of the subscription to Lady Moyne's political fund. He did, in the end, subscribe largely. When I heard about his 1000 cheque I supposed that he must have counted the Union with us a misfortune for England and so wished to perpetuate it. Either that was his motive, so I thought, or else Lady Moyne had captivated him as she always captivates me.

CHAPTER IX

I had no sooner settled down quietly at home and got to work again on my history than I was a.s.sailed by G.o.dfrey. I wish very much that he was Conroy's nephew and not mine. Conroy goes driving in a motor in the middle of the night, so he must like disturbances. I hate them.

"I'm sorry, Excellency, but I am afraid I shall have to interrupt you."

G.o.dfrey, besides being objectionable in other ways, is a liar. He is not sorry, he is very glad, when he gets the chance of interrupting me. I should resent the disturbance less if he acknowledged frankly that he enjoyed annoying me.

"It can't be time," I said, "for another garden-party yet; but, if it is, I'd rather you made out the invitation list yourself. I'm busy.

Besides making out lists is one of the things you're good at. I should be sure to leave out somebody."

"I don't want to talk about garden-parties," said G.o.dfrey. "This is something much more serious."

"There's no use coming to me about it," I said. "I told you last time that your tailor could bring you into the County Court if he liked. I shan't pay him again."

The inference was a natural one. G.o.dfrey had said that he wanted to talk about something more important than a garden-party. But the inference was wrong. G.o.dfrey looked offended.

"I sent Nicholson and Blackett a cheque last week," he said.

I waited patiently. If G.o.dfrey's business had nothing to do with garden-parties or tailors' bills, I could only suppose that he meant to make some fresh complaint about Crossan.

"Pringle cashed it all right," said G.o.dfrey, after a short pause. "I went in there the day after your party and played tennis with his daughter. They were awfully pleased."

I dare say they were. People attach a surprising amount of importance to G.o.dfrey's social patronage. I myself should be more inclined to cash his cheques for him if he stayed away from my house. But I did not want to argue with G.o.dfrey about Pringle's taste in guests.

"What's Crossan been doing to you?" I asked at last.

"He hasn't been doing anything to me."

"Then for goodness' sake, G.o.dfrey, let the man alone."

"I don't like the way he's going on."

"You never did. There's nothing fresh about that. You've complained about him regularly every week for five years."

This was an exaggeration. I am sometimes away from home for more than a week at a time and G.o.dfrey does not always complain about Crossan in his letters.

"Look here, Excellency," said G.o.dfrey, "it's far better for you to know what Crossan's doing. He's going about all over the country day after day. He's got a motor car."

I can quite understand that Crossan's owning a motor car must have a very irritating effect on G.o.dfrey. I cannot afford to keep one. That any one else in the district over which I ought, according to G.o.dfrey's theory, to be a kind of king, should a.s.sume a grandeur impossible for me is simply an aggravated kind of insolence. No wonder that G.o.dfrey, with the honour of the family at heart, resented Crossan's motor car. I tried to soothe him.

"It's probably quite an inferior machine," I said. "It will break down soon."

"It's not only that," said G.o.dfrey, "though I think Crossan ought to stay at home and mind his business. He must be neglecting things.

But--I wish you'd walk up to the store with me, Excellency. Crossan's away."

"I'd much rather go when Crossan's at home," I said; "but, of course, if you won't leave me in peace until I do, I may as well go at once."

I got my hat and walking stick. On the way up to the store G.o.dfrey preserved an air of mysterious importance. I had no objection whatever to his doing this; because he could not talk and look mysterious at the same time, and I particularly dislike being talked to by G.o.dfrey.

I expect he tried to be dignified with a view to impressing me, but just before we reached the store he broke down and babbled fatuously.

"Marion told me yesterday," he said, "that she'd had a letter from that fellow Power."

"She told me that too," I said.

"Well, I think you ought to put a stop to it. It's not right."

"My dear G.o.dfrey," I said, "you appear to forget that he's one of the Powers of Kilfenora and private secretary to a millionaire."

This twofold appeal to the highest and strongest feelings which G.o.dfrey possesses ought to have silenced him. He did, I think, feel the force of what I said. But he was not satisfied.

"If you knew all that was going on," he said, "you wouldn't like it."

We reached the store. The young woman who controls the sale of miscellaneous goods was alert and smiling behind her counter. Whatever Crossan might be doing she at all events was attending to her business. G.o.dfrey took no notice of her. He led me through the shop to the yard behind it. He pushed open the door of one of the outhouses.

"That door ought to be locked," he said.

This was true. I was somewhat surprised to find it open.

"I forced the lock this morning," said G.o.dfrey, "with a screw driver."

"In that case," I said, "you can hardly blame Crossan for its being open. Why did you do it?"

"I wanted to see what he had inside," said G.o.dfrey, "and I wanted you to see."

There was a good deal inside. In fact the outhouse, a large building, was filled from floor to ceiling with packing-cases, some of them very large indeed. G.o.dfrey pointed to a small one near the door.

"Just lift that up, will you, Excellency?" said G.o.dfrey.

"No, I won't. Why should I? I'm not a railway porter, and it looks heavy."