Mr. O’Malley then rose, but before he began to cross-examine the witness, he addressed the judge.

“There’s a witness in court, my lord, whom I shall have to examine by and by on the defence, and I must request that he may be directed to absent himself during my examination of the witness now in the chair. It is material that he should not hear the answers which this witness may give, I mean Mr. Hyacinth Keegan, my lord, who is sitting beneath me.”

Keegan was sitting on the bench immediately under that of the barrister, among the attorneys employed in court. When he heard Mr. O’Malley’s request to the judge, he rose up on his one leg, and the judge having ordered him to leave the court, he hobbled out with the assistance of his crutch.

“Your name is Pat Brady, I think,” commenced Mr. O’Malley.

Pat did not reply.

“Why don’t you answer my question, sir?” said the counsellor angrily.

“Why I towld what my name war afore. Thim gintlemen up there knows it well enough, and yourself knows it; why’d I be saying it agin?”

“Well, my friend, I tell you to begin with, I shall ask you many questions you’ll find considerably more difficult to answer than that, and you’d better make up your mind to answer them; for I mean to get an answer to the questions I shall ask, and you’ll sit in that chair till you do answer them, unless you’re moved from it into gaol.”

“Fire away, sir; I’m very well where I am, and I’m thinking I can howld out agin the hunger longer nor yer honer.”

“Your name is Pat Brady?”

“It is.”

“Whose servant are you?”

“Whose servant?”

“Don’t you understand what I say? whose servant are you?”

“Faix thin, I don’t call myself a servant at all.”

“Who’s your master then?”

“Mr. Macdermot here was my masther afore this affair.”

“I didn’t ask who was your master; who is your master now?”

“Why, Mr. Keegan.”

“Mr. Hyacinth Keegan, that’s just gone out of court; he’s your master, eh?”

“He is.”

“And a very good master — isn’t he?”

“Betther, maybe, than yer honour’d be, and yet perhaps none of the best.”

“Answer my questions, sir; isn’t he a good master?”

“Faix, he is so.”

“How long have you been in his employment?”

“How long!”

“Yes, how long?”

“Why, I can’t jist say how long.”

“Have you been a year?”

“No.”

“Six months?”

“No.”

“Will you swear that you never were in Mr. Keegan’s pay before six months ago?”

“I will.”

“You never received any money from Mr. Keegan before six months ago?”

“I did not say that.”

“Why, if you received his money weren’t you in his pay?”

“No; maybe he gave me a Christmas-box or so; he’s very good to a poor boy like me in that way, is Mr. Keegan.”

“In whose employment were you six months ago?”

“In Mr. Macdermot’s; yourself knows that well enough.”

“And Mr. Macdermot and Mr. Keegan were great friends at that time; weren’t they?”

“Faix they were not; I never seed much frindship betwixt ’em.”

“Did you ever see any enmity between them — any quarrelling — or what you very properly call bad blood?”

“Indeed I did then.”

“I b’lieve Mr. Macdermot — that’s the prisoner — had great trust in you; hadn’t he?”

“I believe he had.”

“You knew all the affairs about the estate?”

“I b’lieve I did.”

“He told you all his troubles — all his money difficulties, didn’t he?”

“One way or other, I b’lieve I knew the most on ’em.”

“Particularly as to the money due on his father’s property, which Keegan had to receive; he used to talk to you confidentially about those things?”

“Well, and av he did?”

“But he did so; didn’t he?”

“Faix, but I don’t know what you’re afther; I b’lieve he towld me all about everything.”

“I believe he did indeed; and now I’ll tell you what I’m after. Mr. Macdermot, unfortunately believing you to be an honest man, told you all his plans and secrets, which you, in consideration of certain pay, which you call Christmas-boxes, sold to the man whom you knew to be your master’s enemy; isn’t that the fact now?”

“No, it a’nt.”

“Ah, but I say it is the fact; and now do you suppose any jury will believe a word you’ve said, after having shown yourself guilty of such treachery as that. Do you expect the jury to believe you?”

“‘Deed I do — every word; Lord bless you, they knows me.”

“Now, then, tell me. Can you recall any conversation between yourself and Mr. Keegan since the death of Captain Ussher, relative to this trial?”

“I can.”

“More than one, perhaps?”

“Oh, lor yes; twenty maybe.”

“Will you tell us any particulars you may remember of the last?”

A long conversation then ensued, but Mr. O’Malley could only elicit that Brady had, of his own accord, informed his master of all he knew on the subject, and that he had done so because he thought it right. He admitted, however, that Mr. Keegan had expressed a desire that the prisoner might be hung. A great many questions were then asked as to the present holding of Ballycloran, to which Brady answered, stating with tolerable accuracy the manner in which Larry at present lived on the property, and the hold which Keegan had upon it. He, moreover, stated that the house was in a very bad state of repair, and that most of the tenants who were left on the property were unable to pay their rent. He then, after much hesitation, owned that he had overheard what had taken place between Keegan and Thady in the avenue, on the day when the attorney had called at Ballycloran — that he had heard the name which Keegan had applied to Feemy, and that he had seen the manner in which Thady had been struck.

He was then asked whether he himself had not cautioned Thady against Ussher, telling him the reports that were going through the country as to Ussher’s treatment of his sister. This he denied, stating that it wasn’t probable that “the likes of him should go to speak to his masther about such things as that.” He was repeatedly questioned on this point, but Mr. O’Malley could not shake his evidence. Brady, however, owned that in talking to Thady about Ussher, he had called the latter “a black Protestant,” and that he had always spoken ill of him; “and now,” continued Mr. O’Malley, “I don’t wish to ask you any questions by answering which you will criminate yourself; but you have already said that you have been a visitor at Mrs. Mulready’s shop?”

“Oh yes, I’ve been there.”

“And you have been there when certain persons swore that before twelve months were passed, Captain Ussher should be under the sod?”

“Yes; I swear I heard thim words, and saw the boys take the oath.”

“But to the best of your belief the prisoner was never at this house when such an oath was taken?”

“Is it Mr. Thady? He was niver at mother Mulready’s at all.”

“But he met the party who had taken this oath at your sister’s wedding?”

“He did.”

“And the same subject was spoken of there; was it?”

“What subject?”

“The propriety of sodding Captain Ussher?”

“I don’t know about propriety.”

“Well, then, the advisability of doing so?”

“Oh, yer honer, I aint no scollard. I can’t make nothin’ of thim long words.”

“At any rate, they talked of sodding Captain Ussher at the wedding — didn’t they?”

“I niver said so.”

“Well, but did they?”

“Talk of sodding him! Faix I don’t know; I don’t think they said sodding.”

“Did they say killing?”

“I won’t say they did.”

“Or murdering?”

“No; they did not say nothin’ about murdher.”

“Oh; they did not say anything about murder — or doing for him? perhaps the prisoner and the other boys agreed to do for him?”

“Maybe they did — maybe you were there; only if so I disremember you; but thim’s not the words I swore to.”

“Well, they didn’t agree to sod him, or kill him, or murder him, or do for him; what was it they were to do for him?”

“They were to rid the counthry of him.”

“What — make the country too hot to hold him? eh, is that what you mean?”

“It don’t matter what I mean; that warn’t what they meant.”

“And how do you know what they meant?”

“Why, they meant to kill the man; you know that as well as I.”

“But I don’t know it — nor do I think it; nor what is more, do you think it; for you are sharp enough to know that where there are so many figurative terms in use to signify murder, it is not probable that had they, on this occasion, wished to signify murder, they would have used a phrase which every one knows expresses an intention to drive a man out of the country. Yes, sir, you know that not one of the party would have dared to propose to Mr. Macdermot to have a share in murder. You and they talked of murder at Mrs. Mulready’s, but you know that for your life you would not have dared to mention it before Mr. Macdermot. Now tell me how long was the prisoner at the wedding party?”

“Maybe three hours.”

“Was he sober when he came in?”

“He war.”

“Was he sober when he went out?”

“Sober when he went out?”

“Yes, sir; was he sober when he went out?”

“I don’t think he war — not to say sober.”

“Wasn’t he mad drunk?”

“Mad dhrunk?”

“Don’t repeat my words, sir; wasn’t he mad drunk?”

“Faix, that’s thrue for you, sir — they’re not worth repeating; no, he war not mad dhrunk.”

“Was he drunk? and mind, sir, you are on your oath — and there were many others present there who will prove whether you answer this question truly or falsely; was he drunk when he left the wedding party?”

“‘Deed then I don’t know; you can ask thim as war there besides me.”

“But I choose to ask you, and I choose that you should answer me; was he drunk?”

“Don’t I tell you that I don’t know?”

“On your oath you don’t know whether he was drunk or not?”

“He war screwed; divil a doubt of that; but thin, he could walk — I wouldn’t call him dhrunk.”

“Wasn’t he nearer being so than you’d seen him for many months?”

“Faix, he war. I didn’t see him so bad since Leitrim fair, two years back.”

“And now you say, that at the wedding, the prisoner promised in a day or two to meet the same boys at Mrs. Mulready’s, to settle their plans of ridding the country of Ussher?”

“Yes; about that and other things.”

“And the prisoner never kept that appointment?”

“No, Mr. Thady niver went there.”

“Did you ever say anything to him about not going there?”

“Oh, I did; we were discoursing about it.”

“And what did you say to him on the subject?”

“Why, I towld him av he guv the boys a promise, he oughts never to go back from his word.”

“That is to say, you endeavoured to persuade him to go?”

“By-dad, I don’t know about persuading; it warn’t for the likes of me to persuade him.”

“On your oath, sir, didn’t you endeavour to induce the prisoner to go to Mrs. Mulready’s?”

“I towld him he ought to be as good as his word.”

“Yes, you did; and you think he ought to have gone?”

“May be av he’d gone there, he’d never have stood here this day.”

“You wanted him to go to Mrs. Mulready’s, then?”

“Wanted! No, I didn’t want nothing about it.”

“You only asked him to go?”

“Jist as I towld you; I said av he guv the boys his word, as a man he shouldn’t go from it.”

“Did you say anything to him about Mr. Jonas Brown?”

“Jonas Brown?”

“Yes, Mr. Jonas Brown, the magistrate?”

“Faix, I don’t know. I can’t rightly say.”

“Think now, my man; when you were trying to persuade your master to go to the widow Mulready’s, did you mention Mr. Jonas Brown’s name?”

“D’ye think I do be counting my words that way; how am I to say all the names I mintioned four or five months back?”

“On your solemn oath don’t you remember mentioning that gentleman’s name to the prisoner with reference to his visit to Mrs. Mulready’s?”

“What, Jonas Brown’s name?”

“Yes.”

“Faix I may.”

“Don’t you know you did?”

“Faix I don’t.”

“Didn’t you threaten your master, that if he did not attend the meeting, some of the boys would swear against him, before Mr. Brown, for having joined the party and taken the oath at the wedding?”

“What av I did?”

“But did you?”

“Maybe I did — maybe I didn’t; I disremember thim little things.”

The cross-examination continued for a considerable time; but nothing further that was material could be drawn from Brady. He seemed even more unwilling to answer Mr. O’Malley, than he had been in replying to Mr. Allewinde, and at last he was sent off the table.

The next witness called was McGovery, who had been summoned on behalf of the prosecution. He was asked whether he had not suspected that some foul play was intended against Ussher, and he stated in what manner he had, in the first place, cautioned Ussher himself — then that he had told the same thing to Father John — and that after overhearing a portion of the conversation at Mrs. Mehan’s, he had gone to Father Cullen, for the purpose of informing him that he feared there was a conspiracy against Mr. Keegan. Little, however, could be learnt from him, for he owned that he had no substantial grounds for his suspicions in the first case, and that he had chiefly been led to fear an attack upon Ussher, from knowing his unpopularity and the bad character of many of the guests expected at the wedding. Mr. O’Laugher tried to make him say that the conversation at Mrs. Mehan’s had been confined to Keegan, and the threats which he had heard uttered against him; but McGovery would not say as much as this; he stated positively that he had never heard Ussher’s name mentioned, but that during a considerable portion of the evening he had been entirely unable to hear a word that the men said; he declared, however, positively that Thady was drunk when he left the room, and that it appeared to him that he, Thady, had taken very little part in the conversation before he was drunk.

When this witness went off the table, Mr. Allewinde declared that the case for the prosecution was finished — stating at the same time that he abstained from feelings of delicacy and respect from putting the prisoner’s sister into the witness box; and that he should trouble her with no questions unless she were placed there by the counsel for the defence.

Mr. O’Malley then rose to address the jury on behalf of the prisoner, and spoke to the following effect:—

“Gentlemen of the jury, it now becomes my duty to address to you such words as may best suit to point out to you the weakness of the evidence against the prisoner — to explain to you the different objects we had in our lengthened cross-examination of the witnesses — to inform you what we intend to prove on behalf of the prisoner from further witnesses — and, in fact, to put the case before you in a light, and point of view, differing as widely as I can make it do from that in which my learned friend has presented it to you. This you are aware is the general duty and constant object of a counsel endeavouring to obtain a verdict of acquittal from a jury. It is a duty in which long practice has made me familiar, if not skilful; and I never undertook that duty with the same assurance of its facility, as that which I now feel, after having heard the evidence which has been brought forward on the prosecution. I knew beforehand, as surely as one can trust to human knowledge, that the evidence would fail; but knowing the acute legal abilities of my learned friend, and the extraordinary avidity which exists among a large class of men for a verdict against the prisoner in this case — remembering, I say, these things, I did not expect such a total break down, such an exposure of weakness as that which has been just made before you. Were my object merely to rescue the prisoner from an ignominious death — had it been my mere duty on this occasion to obtain an acquittal, I should feel no hesitation in requesting his lordship at once to send the case before you, with such remarks as the evidence would call forth from him; and I should consider that I was only wasting the time of the court in pointing out to you the insufficiency of the evidence, in which each of you must perceive that nothing whatever is proved against the prisoner; but I have been employed with another object; and I must own to you that so great is my own personal anxiety — so terrible and so undeserved the present position of that unfortunate young man, and so essentially necessary is it for his future happiness, that I should effect my present object; — I must own to you, I say, for these reasons, that from the time when I first found myself standing in a crowded court to address a jury, up to the present moment, I have never felt so little self-confidence, or experienced so total a prostration of that assurance, which is a lawyer’s first requisite, as I do at present.

“I have said my object in addressing you is not merely that of obtaining an acquittal; and I said so because a mere acquittal will serve that unfortunate young man but little. Unless he can walk out of this court with such a verdict as, damning as it may be to others, will altogether cleanse his name from the stain of guilt in this matter; unless he can, not only save his neck from the halter, but also entirely clear his character from the gross charges which have been brought against him — he would as lief go back to the cell whence he has come, as return to his father’s house acquitted by the voice of law, but condemned by that of opinion.

“On this account I am debarred from many of the usual resources of counsel pleading for a prisoner; I am forbidden to make use of legal points in his favour; I am forbidden to effect an escape by the numerous weak points in the enemy’s plan of attack; I am desired to meet him face to face in the open field — to fight under no banner but that of truth, and not to strike my adversary below the belt. You are aware that this is a line of conduct as rare as it is difficult in a criminal court — when an advocate has to contend for his client against the law — where every possible means of success which legal ingenuity can devise is taken in the prosecution, and where you are accustomed to hear every legal technicality used in the defence.

“Had I not received instructions of so peculiar a nature, I should point out to the jury that no proof has been given direct or circumstantial, that the prisoner was the person by whose hands Ussher fell; instead of doing so I am to declare that he did, as he is supposed to have done, kill the deceased in the avenue of Ballycloran, by strikin............