The gag had been removed from his mouth, but his hands were still
firmly pinioned, and he was so securely strapped into the chair which
held him that he could scarcely move a limb. Under these circumstances
Dent did not show to advantage. There was none of that conscious
innocence which gives to other men a certain nobility in the hour of
trial. On the contrary, his face was blanched with the most unmistakable
fear, and his restless shifting eyes looked no one member of the motley
group who surrounded him full in the face.
To all appearance, however, these people did jot take the smallest
notice of Dent. They left him in his corner, and eagerly pursued their
own gay revelries, deaf to the sound of the piteous voice which he
raised now and then. Patrick O'Flaherty, Mother Bunch's husband, played
the fiddle with much spirit, but Mother Bunch herself was the real
mistress of the ceremonies, footing it bravely in the jig, and letting
her voice peal forth in such enthusiastic Irish songs as "The Shamrock,"
"Garryowen," "Saint Patrick's Day," and the like.
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