On the unexpected arrival of Lord Harry at this hotel, there had been
hurriedly called together a meeting of those members then in Dublin. It
was resolved that the traitor must be removed. Lots were cast, and the
lot fell upon one who remembered past acts of kindness done by Lord
Harry to his own people. He would fain have been spared this business,
but the rules of the society are imperative. He must obey.
It is the practice of the society when a murder has been resolved upon
to appoint a second man, whose duty it is to accompany the murderer and
to see that he executes his task.
In the afternoon, about an hour before sunset, the train arrived at the
station where Lord Harry was to get down. The station-master recognised
him, and touched his hat. Then he saw the two other men got down after
him, and he turned pale.
"I will leave my portmanteau," said Lord Harry, "in the cloak-room. It
will be called for."
Afterwards the station-master remembered those words. Lord Harry did
not say "I will call for it," but "It will be called for." Ominous
words.
The weather was cold; a drizzling rain fell; the day was drawing in.
Lord Harry left the station, and started with quick step along the
road, which stretched across a dreary desolate piece of country.
The two men walked after him. One presently quickened his step, leaving
the second man twenty yards behind.