Chapter 3

Late in the night, two riders were waiting on the foggy road under the cover of a small stand of trees for a chance meeting. Lawyer Harris had worked late into the night. He had drunk later into the evening with Verne. Now, plodding along the road toward home after midnight, the man paid little attention to the familiar surroundings. So deep in thought and wine dulled, he never heard the riders overtake him. By the time he noticed, there was a gun barrel pointed in the general direction of his head and his reins had been snatched out of his hands.

Terrified and growing more sober by the minute, the attorney was led away into the hills to a secluded hollow. A man in a dark cloak turned on him as the horses were brought to a halt. It was David Drummond.

No, that can't be. Drummond is chained up at Kingston's house.

Harris squinted and looked at the figure in front of him harder, but the black clad red head did not change in appearance. He was rewarded for the scrutiny with a kick hard enough to knock him off his horse. He landed on his back in soft, wet moss. The fore-mentioned pistol came back into view. He looked up at the one holding it, stone sober, knowing things were about to go bad for him, very bad.

"Sir, whoever you are–I am no enemy to the man you pretend to be," Harris said.

The pistol was cocked.

Panic took over. He froze halfway to sitting up.

"I didn't know anything about the O'Donnell attack," Harris said, trembling in his speech and shoes. It was the only thing he could think to say and the only reason anyone would drag him out into the fields. He was so scared, words tumbled out of him in the effort to keep from being killed as vengeance for Kingston's massacre.

"I swear to God, I did not know. Kingston and others arranged that. I would have warned Francis O'Donnell… I would have told Drummond. I wasn't told anything!"

"Listen to me," He pleaded. "Drummond is here at Kingston's estate. They found him in France and brought him back. They plan to set up a sham trial and hang him, but your appearance has unnerved them. Kingston does not know I helped Drummond. None of them do. I cannot help you arrest him for the O'Donnell family's deaths, but I will do anything you want to get Drummond free; I swear it."

A very flat, menacing voice came from the Drummond apparition. It was a cultured English voice, which scared Harris more.

"Good of you to offer, but how do we know you do not intend to give us up to the wolves?" Phileas said. "How do we know you are telling the truth? You have chosen your friends poorly. For all we know, you are the one who told them Drummond was at the O'Donnell estate."

"What? No, NO! I swear I knew nothing! I did not even know Drummond was there. I was in Dublin on business. He never told me he stayed there. If he had, I would have warned him away. Kingston didn't like Francis O'Donnell and hated David. He put himself right in the man's hands. If Kingston could claim to have gotten rid of Drummond, dozens would give him support."

Phileas considered the pathetic man on the ground. Harris was close to tears. Obviously not used to getting cross-examined.

"There are accounts to be settled for what happened to the O'Donnell's," Phileas said. "You will be spared for now, so long as you do your part in freeing Drummond. See, you are on the right side when the call for justice comes."

Phileas put the pistol away. He pulled the terrified lawyer off the ground and told him what he was about to do.