“Come, that’s very well said, at all events—­one of your touchers, as I call them.  There, then, is an end to the match and marriage, and so be it.”

She here detailed at further length, the conversation which she had with Shawn-na-Middogue; mentioned the fact, which had somehow become well known, of his having wrought the ruin of Grace Davoren, and concluded by stating that, notwithstanding his gentlemanly manners and deportment, he was unworthy either the notice or regard of any respectable female.

“Well,” said the peer, “from, all you have told me I must say you have had a narrow escape; I did suspect him to be a fortune-hunter; but then who the deuce can blame a man for striving to advance himself in life?  However, let there be an end to it, and you must only wait until a better man comes.”

“I assure you, my dear uncle, I am in no hurry; so let that be your comfort so far as I am concerned.”

“Well, then,” said the peer, “I shall write to him to say that the marriage, in consequence of what we have heard of his character, is off.”

“Take whatever steps you please,” replied his admirable niece; “for most assuredly, so far as I am concerned, it is off.  Do you imagine, uncle, that I could for a moment think of marrying a seducer and a poisoner?”

“It would be a very queer thing if you did,” replied her uncle; “but was it not a fortunate circumstance that you came to discover his real character in time to prevent you from becoming the wife of such a scoundrel?”

“It was the providence of God,” said his niece, “that would not suffer the innocent to become associated with the guilty.”

Greatrakes, in the meantime, was hard at work.  He and the other magistrates had collected evidence, and received the informations against Woodward, the herbalist, and the mysterious individual who was in the habit of appearing about the Haunted House as the Shan-dhinne-dhuv, or the Black Spectre.  Villany like this cannot be long concealed, and will, in due time, come to light.

During the dusk of the evening preceding Woodward’s intended marriage, an individual came to Mr. Lindsay’s house and requested to see Mr. Woodward.  That gentleman came down, and immediately recognized the person who had, for such a length of time, frightened the neighborhood as the Shan-dhinne-dhuv or the Black Spectre.  He was shown into the parlor, and, as there was no one present, the following dialogue took place, freely and confidentially, between them:—­

“You must fly,” said the Spectre, or, in other words, the conjurer, whom we have already described,—­“you must fly, for you are to be arrested this night.  Our establishment for the forgery of bad notes must also be given up, and the Haunted House must be deserted.  The magistrates, somehow, have smelled out the truth, and we must change our lodgings.  We dodged them pretty well, but, after all, these things can’t last long.