Chapter XIV
“Wake, you lumber’ead! wake! Jump inter your clothes an’ come down. There’s a suicide. Somebody’s took pizen in Phelan’s. They says as he’s prayin’ an’ repentin’ on every doormat in the ’ouse, an’ requestin’ a doctor. Will you wake up?”
This was the first watch of the night, and Randal growled in his bed as Conroy shook sleep from him with frantic hands.
“Sling it up. Who’s the johnny? Oh—I don’t care, anyway, Conroy. Let me sleep.”
Conroy struck a match to the candle, and, his shock head and strained eyes sprang out of the dark. He ran the whole coach service of the district, and at this present he ran Randal as well. Incidentally, Randal was the neatest driver he had known these six years.
“Didn’t ’ear ’is name. Murray’s bringin’ him round here. I’ve ordered a team inter the old coach, an’ you’ll take the chap down to Three Corners, eyes out. We ain’t wantin’ no inques’ held in Argyle.”
Randal sat up and blinked where reflection
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