When Whitecraft reached the jail in his carriage, attended by a guard of troopers, the jailor knew not what to make of it; but seeing the carriage, which, after a glance or two, he immediately recognized as that of the well-known grand juror, he came out, with hat in hand, bowing most obsequiously.

“I hope your honor’s well; you are coming to inspect the prisoners, I suppose?  Always active on behalf of Church and State, Sir Robert.”

“Come, Mr. O’Shaughnessy,” said one of the constables, “get on with no nonsense.  You’re a mighty Church and State man now; but I remember when there was as rank a rebel under your coat as ever thumped a craw.  Sir Robert, sir, is here as our prisoner, and will soon be yours, for murder and arson, and God knows what besides.  Be pleased to walk into the hatch, Sir Robert, and there we surrender you to Mr. O’Shaughnessy, who will treat you well if you pay him well.”

They then entered the hatch.  The constable produced the mittimus and the baronet’s person both together, after which they withdrew, having failed to get the price of a glass from the baronet as a reward for their civility.

Such scenes have been described a hundred times, and we consequently shall not delay our readers upon this.  The baronet, indeed, imagined that from his rank and influence the jailer might be induced to give him comfortable apartments.  He was in, however, for two capital felonies, and the jailer, who was acquainted with the turn that public affairs had taken, told him that upon his soul and conscience if the matter lay with him he would not put his honor among the felons; but then he had no discretion, because it was as much as his place was worth to break the rules—­a thing he couldn’t think of doing as an honest man and an upright officer.

“But whatever I can do for you, Sir Robert, I’ll do.”

“You will let me have pen and ink, won’t you?”

“Well, let me see.  Yes, I will, Sir Robert; I’ll stretch that far for the sake of ould times.”

CHAPTEE XXII.

The Squire Comforts Whitecraft in his Affliction.

The old squire and Cummiskey lost little time in getting over the ground to the town of Sligo, and, in order to reach it the more quickly, they took a short cut by the old road which we have described at the beginning of this narrative.  On arriving at that part of it from which they could view the spot where Reilly rescued them from the murderous violence of the Red Rapparee, Cummiskey pointed to it.

“Does your honor remember that place, where you see the ould buildin’?”

“Yes, I think so.  Is not that the place where the cursed Rapparee attacked us?”

“It is, sir; and where poor Reilly saved both our lives; and yet your honor is goin’ to hang him.”

“You know nothing about it, you old blockhead.  It was all a plan got up by Reilly and the Rapparee for the purpose of getting introduced to my daughter, for his own base and selfish purposes.  Yes, I’ll hang him certainly—­no doubt of that.”