Nor was this all; he
had been endeavoring to bring the property more and more into his own
clutches, a point which he would ultimately have gained, had not the
Colonel's late succession to so large a fortune enabled him to meet his
claims.
At one o'clock the tenants were all assembled about the inn door, where
the Colonel had resolved to hold his little court. The agent himself
soon arrived, as did several other gentlemen, the Colonel's friends, who
knew the people and could speak to their character.
The first man called was Dominick M'Evoy. No sooner was his name
uttered, than a mild, poor-looking man, rather advanced in years, came
forward.
"I beg your pardon, Colonel," said Carson, "here is some mistake; this
man is not one of your tenants. You may remember I told you so this
morning."
"I remember it," replied the Colonel; "this is 'the rascal' you spoke
of--is he not? M'Evoy," the Colonel proceeded, "you will reply to
my questions with strict truth. You will state nothing but what has
occurred between you and my agent; you must not even turn a circumstance
in your own favor, nor against Mr. Carson, by either adding to, or
taking away from it, more or less than the truth. I say this to you, and
to all present; for, upon my honor, I shall dismiss the first case in
which I discover a falsehood."
"Wid the help o' the Almighty, sir, I'll state nothing but the bare
thruth."
"How long are you off my estate?"
"Ten years, your honor, or a little more.
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