“Of course he is not; you would soon know it to your cost if he were.  The place of your rendezvous is somewhat too near civilization for him; you should, however, change it; never meet twice in the same place, if you can.”

“You are reaping a tolerably good harvest here, I suppose.  Do they ever place you in a difficulty?”

“Difficulty!  God help you; there is not an individual among them, or throughout the whole parish, with whose persons, circumstances, and characters I am not acquainted; but even if it were not so, I could make them give me unconsciously the very information they want—­returned to them, of course, in a new shape.  I make them state the facts, and I draw the inferences; nothing is easier; it is a trick that every impostor is master of.  How do you proceed with Miss Goodwin?”

“That matter is hopeless by fair means—­she’s in love with that d——­d brother of mine.”

“No chance of the property, then?”

“Not as affairs stand at present; we must, however, maintain our intimacy; if so, I won’t despair yet.”

“But what do you intend to do?  If she marries your brother the property goes to him—­and you may go whistle.”

“I don’t give it up, though—­I bear a brain still, I think; but the truth is, I have not completed my plan of operations.  What I am to do, I know not yet exactly.  If I could break off the match between her and my brother, she might probably, through the influence of her parents and other causes, he persuaded into a reluctant marriage with Harry Woodward; time, however, will tell, and I must only work my way through the difficulty as well as I can.  I will now leave you, and I don’t think I shall be able to see you again for a week to come.”

“Before you go let me ask if you know a vagabond called Ranting Rody, who goes about through the country living no one knows how?”

“No, I do not know him; what is he?”

“He’s nothing except a paramour of Caterine Collins’s, who, you know, is a rival of ours; nobody here knows anything about him, whilst he, it appears, knows every one and everything.”

“He would make a good conjurer,” replied Woodward, smiling.

“If the fellow could be depended on,” replied the other, “he might be useful; in fact, I am of opinion that if he wished he could trace Shawn-na-Middogue’s haunts.  The scoundrel attempted just now to impose upon me in the dress of a woman, and, were it not that I knew him so well, he might have got my beard stripped from my face, and my bones broken besides; but I feel confident that if any one could trace and secure the outlaw, he could—­I mean with proper assistance.  Think of this.”

“I shall find him out,” replied Woodward, “and sound him, at all events, and I think through Caterine Collins I may possibly secure him; but we must be cautious.  Good-by; I wish you success!”

After which he passed through the crowd, exclaiming,