On leaving the hut, Greatrakes was highly gratified on finding that Barney Casey had overheard their whole conversation.

“You will serve as a corroborative evidence,” said he.

The herbalist, at all events, was entrapped, and not only his disposition to sell botanical poisons, but his habit of doing so, was clearly proved to the benevolent magistrate.

On the next night he got the poison, and having consulted with Casey, he said he would not urge the matter for a few days, as he wished, in the most private way possible, to procure further evidence against the guilty parties.

In the meantime, every preparation was made in both families for Woodward’s wedding.  The old peer, who had cross-examined his niece upon the subject, discovered her attachment to Woodward; and as he wished to see her settled before his death with a gentlemanly and respectable husband—­a man who would be capable of taking care of the property which he must necessarily leave her, as she was his favorite and his heiress—­and besides, he loved her as a daughter—­he was resolved that Woodward and she should be united.”

“I don’t care a fig,” said he, “whether this Woodward has property or not.  He is a gentleman, respectably connected, of accomplished manners, handsome in person, and if he has no fortune, why you have; and I think the best thing you can do is to accept him without hesitation.  The comical rascal,” said he, laughing heartily, “took me in so completely during our first interview, that he became a favorite with me.”

“I think well of him,” replied his firm-minded niece; “and even I admit that I love him, as far as a girl of such a cold constitution as mine may; but I tell you, uncle, that if I discovered a taint of vice or want of principle in his character, I could fling him off with contempt.”

“I wish to heaven,” replied the uncle, rather nettled, “that we could have up one of the twelve apostles.  I dare say some of them, if they were disposed to marry, might come up to your mark.”

“Well, uncle, at all events I like him sufficiently to consent that he should become my husband.”

“Well, and is not that enough; bless my heart, could you wish to go beyond it?”

In the meantime, very important matters were proceeding, which bore strongly upon Woodward’s destiny.  Greatrakes had collected—­aided, of course, by Barney Casey, who was the principal, but not the sole, evidence against him—­such a series of facts, as, he felt, justified him in receiving informations against him.

At this crisis a discovery was made in connection with the Haunted House, which was privately, through Casey, communicated to Greatrakes, who called a meeting of the neighboring magistrates upon it.  This he did by writing to them privately to meet him on a particular day at his little inn in Rathfillan.  For obvious reasons, and out of consideration to his feelings, Mr. Lindsay’s name was omitted.  At all events the night preceding the day of Woodward’s marriage with Miss Riddle had arrived, but two circumstances occurred on that evening and on that night which not only frustrated all his designs upon Miss Riddle, or rather upon her uncle’s property, but—­however, we shall not anticipate.