“Don’t dream of such a thing,” said the baronet.  “On the day he dined here—­and you cannot forget my strong disinclination to meet him—­but even on that day you will recollect the treasonable language he used against the laws of the realm.  After my return home I took a note of them, and I trust that you, sir, will corroborate, with respect to this fact, the testimony which it is my purpose to give against him.  I say this the rather, Mr. Folliard, because it might seriously compromise your own character with the Government, and as a magistrate, too, to hear treasonable and seditious language at your own table, from a Papist Jesuit, and yet decline to report it to the authorities.”

“The laws, the authorities, and you be hanged, sir!” replied the squire; “my table is, and has been, and ever shall be, the altar of confidence to my guests; I shall never violate the laws of hospitality.  Treat the man fairly, I say, concoct no plot against him, bribe no false witnesses, and if he is justly amenable to the law I will spend ten thousand pounds to have him sent anywhere out of the country.”

“He keeps arms,” observed Sir Robert, “contrary to the penal enactments.”

“I think not,” said the squire; “he told me he was on a duck-shooting expedition that night, and when I asked him where he got his arms, he said that his neighbor, Bob Gosford, always lent him his gun whenever he felt disposed to shoot, and, to my own knowledge, so did many other Protestant magistrates in the neighborhood, for this wily Jesuit is a favorite with most of them.”

“But I know where he has arms concealed,” said the Rapparee, looking significantly at the baronet, “and I will be able to find them, too, when the proper time comes.”

“Ha! indeed, O’Donnel,” said Sir Robert, with well-feigned surprise; “then there will be no lack of proof against him, you may rest assured, Mr. Folliard; I charge myself with the management of the whole affair.  I trust, sir, you will leave it to me, and I have only one favor to ask, and that is the hand of your fair daughter when he is disposed of.”

“She shall be yours, Sir Robert, the moment that this treacherous villain can be removed by the fair operation of the laws; but I will never sanction any dishonorable treatment towards him.  By the laws of the land let him stand or fall.”

At this moment a sneeze of tremendous strength and loudness was heard immediately outside the door; a sneeze which made the hair of the baronet almost stand on end.

“What the devil is that?” asked the squire.  “By the great Boyne, I fear some one has been listening after all.”

The Rapparee, always apprehensive of the “authorities,” started behind a screen, and the baronet, although unconscious of any cause for terror, stood rather undecided.  The sneeze, however, was repeated, and this time it was a double one.

“Curse it, Sir Robert,” said the squire, “have you not the use of your legs?  Go and see whether there has been an eavesdropper”