"Surely it is not the custom of Englishmen to
receive strangers so inhospitably."
"I do not know," said the man, "what the custom of the English may be,
but it is the custom of the Irish to hate villains." While this strange
dialogue continued, I perceived the crowd rapidly increase. Their
faces expressed a mixture of curiosity and anger, which annoyed and in
some degree alarmed me.
I inquired the way to the inn, but no one replied. I then moved
forward, and a murmuring sound arose from the crowd as they followed
and surrounded me, when an ill-looking man approaching tapped me on the
shoulder and said, "Come, sir, you must follow me to Mr. Kirwin's to
give an account of yourself."
"Who is Mr. Kirwin? Why am I to give an account of myself? Is not
this a free country?"
"Ay, sir, free enough for honest folks. Mr. Kirwin is a magistrate,
and you are to give an account of the death of a gentleman who was
found murdered here last night."
This answer startled me, but I presently recovered myself. I was
innocent; that could easily be proved; accordingly I followed my
conductor in silence and was led to one of the best houses in the
town. I was ready to sink from fatigue and hunger, but being
surrounded by a crowd, I thought it politic to rouse all my strength,
that no physical debility might be construed into apprehension or
conscious guilt. Little did I then expect the calamity that was in a
few moments to overwhelm me and extinguish in horror and despair all
fear of ignominy or death.
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