“Begad, it was a beauty, sir, and well managed.”

“Ay, but I am afraid, O’Donnel, I went a little too far—­that I stretched my authority somewhat.”

“But isn’t he a rebel and an outlaw, Sir Robert? and in that case—­”

“Yes, O’Donnel; and a rebel and an outlaw of my own making, which is the best of it.  The fellow might have lain there, concocting his treason, long enough, only for my vigilance.  However, it’s all right.  The government, to which I have rendered such important services, will stand by me, and fetch me out of the burning—­that is, if there has been any transgression of the law in it.  The Papists are privately recruiting for the French service, and that is felony; Reilly also was recruiting for the French service—­was he not?”

“He offered me a commission, sir.”

“Very good; that’s all right, but can you prove that?”

“Why, I can swear it, Sir Robert.”

“Better still.  But do you think he is in the country, O’Donnel?”

“I would rather swear he is, sir, than that he is not.  He won’t lave her aisily.”

“Who do you mean by her, sir?”

“I would rather not name her, your honor, in connection with the vagabond.”

“That’s delicate of you, O’Donnel; I highly approve of your sentiment.  Here, have a glass of wine.”

“Thank you, Sir Robert; but have you any brandy, sir?  My tongue is as dry as a stick, wid that glorious bonfire we had; but, besides, sir, I wish to drink success to you in all your undertakings.  A happy marriage, sir!” and he accompanied the words with a ferocious grin.

“You shall have one glass of brandy, O’Donnel, but no more.  I wish you to deliver a letter for me to-night.  It is to the sheriff, who dines with Lord ------, a friend of mine; and I wish you to deliver it at his lordship’s house, where you will be sure to find him.  The letter is of the greatest importance, and you will take care to deliver it safely.  No answer by you is required.  He was out to-day, levying fines from Popish priests, and a heavy one from the Popish bishop, and I do not think, with a large sum of money about him, that he will go home to-night.  Here is the letter.  I expect he will call on me in the morning, to breakfast—­at least I have asked him, for we have very serious business to discuss.”

The Rapparee took the letter, finished his glass of brandy, and disappeared to fulfil his commission.

Now it so happened that on that very evening, before the premises had been set on fire, Mary Mahon, by O’Donnel’s order, had entered the house, and under, as it were, the protection of the military, gathered up as much of Reilly’s clothes and linen as she could conveniently carry to her cottage, which was in the immediate vicinity of Whitecraft’s residence—­it being the interest of this hypocritical voluptuary to have the corrupt wretch near him.  The Rapparee, having left Whitecraft