“Get the money first, granny.  I won’t give him the blow till it is safe.”

“Won’t you?” replied the beldame; “ay, dher Creestha, will you, whin you know what.  I have to tell you about him an’—­an’——­”

“And who, granny?”

“Diououl, man, but I’m afeard to tell you, for fraid you’d kill me.”

“Tut, Nelly; I’d not strike an Obeah-wo-man,” said he, laughing.

“I suspect foul play between him an’—­her.”

“Eh?  Fury of hell, no!”

“He’s very handsome,” said the other, “an’ young—­far younger than you are, by thirteen—­”

“Go on—­go on,” said the Dead Boxer, interrupting her, and clenching his fist, whilst his eyes literally glowed like live coals, “go on—­I’ll murder him, but not till—­yes, I’ll murder him at a blow—­I will; but no—­not till you secure the money first.  If I give him the blow—­THE BOX—­I might never get it, granny.  A dead man gives back nothing.”

“I suspect,” replied Nell, “arraghid—­that is the money—­is in other hands.  Lord presarve us! but it’s a wicked world, blackey.”

“Where is it!” said the Boxer, with a vehemence of manner resembling that of a man who was ready to sink to perdition for his wealth.  “Devil! and furies! where is it?”

“Where is it?” said the imperturbable Nell; “why, manim a yeah, man, sure you don’t think that I know where it is?  I suspect that your landlord’s daughter, his real sweetheart, knows something about it; but thin, you see, I can prove nothing; I only suspect.  We must watch an’ wait.  You know she wouldn’t prosecute him.”

“We will watch an’ wait—­but I’ll finish him.  Tell me, Nell—­fury of hell, woman—­can it be possible—­no—­well—­I’ll murder him, though; but can it be possible that she’s guilty? eh?  She wouldn’t prosecute him—­No—­no—­she would not.”

“She is not worthy of you, blackey.  Lord save us!  Well, troth, I remimber whin you wor in Lord S—­’s, you were a fine young man of your color.  I did something for the young lord in my way then, an’ I used to say, when I called to see her, that you wor a beauty, barrin’ the face.  Sure enough, there was no lie in that.  Well, that was before you tuck to the fightin’; but I’m ravin’.  Whisper, man.  If you doubt what I’m sayin’, watch the north corner of the orchard about nine to-night, an’ you’ll see a meetin’ between her an’ O’Rorke.  God be wid you!  I must go.”

“Stop!” said the Boxer; “don’t—­but do get a charm for the money.”

“Good-by,” said Nell; “you a heart wid your money!  No; damnho sherry on the charm ever I’ll get you till you show more spunk.  You!  My curse on the money, man, when your disgrace is consarned!”

Nell passed rapidly, and with evident indignation out of the room; nor could any entreaty on the part of the Dead Boxer induce her to return and prolong the dialogue.