The Art of Disappearing Part 22

"I don't wonder you feel so badly," Arthur said, laughing. "But see here: we're not afraid of Livingstone. We've knocked him out before, and we can do it again. It will be interesting to go back home, and help to undo that programme. If you can manage him here, rely on Grahame and me and a few others in New York, to take the starch out of him at home.

What's all this to do with Ledwith?"

"Nothing," said his lordship with an apology. "But my own trouble seems bigger than his. We'll get him out, of course. Go and see Livingstone, and talk to him on the uppish plan. Demand the rights and privileges of the British subject for our man. You won't get any satisfaction, but a stiff talk will pave the way for my share in the scheme. You take the American ground, and I come in on the British ground. We ought to make him ashamed between us, doncheknow."

Arthur had doubts of that, but no doubt at all that Lord Constantine owned the finest heart that ever beat in a man. He felt very cheerful at the thought of shaking up the Minister. Half hopeful of success, curious to test the strings which move an American Minister at the court of St.

James, anxious about Honora and Owen, he presented himself at Livingstone's residence by appointment, and received a gracious welcome.

Unknown to themselves, the two men had an attraction for each other.

Fate opposed them strangely. This hour Arthur Dillon stood forth as the knight of a despised and desperate race, in a b.l.o.o.d.y turmoil at home, fighting for a little s.p.a.ce on American soil, hopeful but spent with the labor of upholding its ideals; and Livingstone represented a triumphant faction in both countries, which, having long made life bitter and b.l.o.o.d.y for the Irish, still kept before them the choice of final destruction or the acceptance of the Puritan G.o.ds. To Arthur the struggle so far seemed but a clever game whose excitement kept sorrow from eating out his heart. He saw the irony rather than the tragedy of the contest. It tickled him immensely just now that Puritan faced Puritan; the new striking at the old for decency's sake; a Protestant fighting a Protestant in behalf of the religious ideals of Papists. He had an advantage over his kinsman beyond the latter's ken; since to him the humor of the situation seemed more vital than the tragedy, a mistake quite easy to youth. Arthur stated Ledwith's case beautifully, and asked him to notify the British officials that the American Minister would send his representative to watch the trial.

"Impossible," said Livingstone. "I am content with the ordinary course for all these cases."

"We are not," replied Arthur as decisively, "and we call upon our government to protect its citizens against the packed juries and other injustices of these Irish trials."

"And what good would my interference do?" said Livingstone. Arthur grinned.

"Your Excellency, such a notification would open the doors of the jail to Ledwith to-morrow. There would be no trial."

"My instructions from the President are precise in this matter. We are satisfied that American citizens will get as fair a trial as Englishmen themselves. There will be no interference until I am satisfied that things are not going properly."

"Can you tell me, then, how I am to satisfy you in Ledwith's case?" said the young man good-naturedly.

"I don't think you or any one else can, Mr. Dillon. I know Ledwith, a conspirator from his youth. He is found in Ireland in a time of insurrection. That's quite enough."

"You forget that I have given you my word he was not concerned with the insurrection, and did not know it was so imminent; that he went to Ireland with his daughter on a business matter."

"All which can be shown at the trial, and will secure his acquittal."

"Neither I nor his daughter will ever be called as witnesses. Instead, a pack of ready informers will swear to anything necessary to hurry him off to life imprisonment."

"That is your opinion."

"Do you know who sent me here, your Excellency, with the request for your aid?"

Livingstone stared his interrogation.

"An English officer with whom you are acquainted, friendly to Ledwith for some one else's sake. In plain words, he gave me to understand that there is no hope for Ledwith unless you interfere. If he goes to trial, he hangs or goes to Botany Bay."

"You are pessimistic," mocked Livingstone. "It is the fault of the Irish that they have no faith in any government, because they cannot establish one of their own."

"Outside of New York," corrected Arthur, with delightful malice.

"Amendment accepted."

"Would you be able to interfere in behalf of my friend while the trial was on, say, just before the summing up, when the informers had sworn to one thing, and the witnesses for the defense to another, if they are not shut out altogether?"

"Impossible. I might as well interfere now."

"Then on the score of sentiment. Ledwith is failing into age. Even a brief term in prison may kill him."

"He took the risk in returning to Ireland at this time. I would be willing to aid him on that score, but it would open the door to a thousand others, and we are unwilling to embarra.s.s the English government at a trying moment."

"Were they so considerate when our moments were trying and they could embarra.s.s us?"

"That is an Irish argument."

"What they said of your Excellency in New York was true, I am inclined to believe: that you accepted the English mission to be of use to the English in the present insurrection."

"Well," said the Minister, laughing in spite of himself at the audacity of Arthur, "you will admit that I have a right to pay back the Irish for my defeat at the polls."

"You are our representative and defender," replied Arthur gravely, "and yet you leave us no alternative but to appeal to the English themselves."

Livingstone began to look bored, because irritation scorched him and had to be concealed. Arthur rose.

"We are to understand, then, the friends of Ledwith, that you will do nothing beyond what is absolutely required by the law, and after all formalities are complied with?" he said.

"Precisely."

"We shall have to depend on his English friends, then. It will look queer to see Englishmen take up your duty where you deserted it."

The Minister waved his hand to signify that he had enough of that topic, but the provoking quality of Arthur's smile, for he did not seem chagrined, reminded him of a question.

"Who are the people interested in Ledwith, may I ask?"

"All your old friends of New York," said Arthur, "Birmingham, Sullivan, and so on."

"Of course. And the English friends who are to take up my duties where I desert them?"

"You must know some of them," and Arthur grinned again, so that the Minister slightly winced. "Captain Sydenham, commanding in Donegal----"

"I met him in New York one winter--younger brother to Lord Groton."

"The Dowager Countess of Skibbereen."

"Very fine woman. Ledwith is in luck."

"And Lord Constantine of Ess.e.x."

"I see you know the value of a climax, Mr. Dillon. Well, good-night. I hope the friends of Mr. Ledwith will be able to do everything for him."

It irritated him that Arthur carried off the honors of the occasion, for the young man's smiling face betrayed his belief that the mention of these n.o.ble names, and the fact that their owners were working for Ledwith, would sorely trouble the pillow of Livingstone that night. The contrast between the generosity of kindly Englishmen and his own harshness was too violent. He foresaw that to any determined attempt on the part of Ledwith's English friends he must surrender as gracefully as might be; and the problem was to make that surrender harmless. He had solved it by the time Anne Dillon reached London, and had composed that music sure to make the Minister dance whether he would or no. In taking charge of the case Anne briefly expressed her opinion of her son's methods.

"You did the best you could, Arthur," she said sweetly.

He could not but laugh and admire. Her instincts for the game were far surer than his own, and her methods infallible. She made the road easy for Livingstone, but he had to walk it briskly. How could the poor man help himself? She hurled at him an army of n.o.bles, headed by the Countess and Lord Constantine; she brought him letters from his friends at home; there was a dinner at the hotel, the Dowager being the hostess; and he was almost awed by the second generation of Anne's audacious race: Mona, red-lipped, jewel-eyed, sweeter than wild honey; Louis, whose lovely nature and high purpose shone in his face; and Arthur, sad-eyed, impudent, cynical, who seemed ready to shake dice with the devil, and had no fear of mortals because he had no respect for them.

These outcasts of a few years back were able now to seize the threads of intrigue, and shake up two governments with a single pull! He mourned while he described what he had done for them. There would be no trial for Ledwith. He would be released at once and sent home at government expense. It was a great favor, a very great favor. Even Arthur thanked him, though he had difficulty in suppressing the grin which stole to his face whenever he looked at his kinsman. The Minister saw the grin peeping from his eyes, but forgave him.

Arthur had the joy of bringing the good news down to Donegal. Anne bade him farewell with a sly smile of triumph. Admirable woman! she floated above them all in the celestial airs. But she was gracious to her son.

The poor boy had been so long in California that he did not know how to go about things. She urged him to join them in Rome for the visit to the Pope, and sent her love to Honora and a bit of advice to Owen. When Arthur arrived in Cruarig, whither a telegram had preceded him, he was surprised to find Honora Ledwith in no way relieved of anxiety.