“Go to h—­l, you young imp of perdition, do your duty, I say.”

Lanty here mixed him some brandy and water, and then held it to his lips.

“Here,” said he, “here is the Glorious, Pious, and Immortal Memory! hip, (hiccup) oh—­ay—­hip, hip, hurrah!  Now, Lanty, you clip, that’s one part of my duty done.”

“It is, sir,” replied Lanty; “you always did your duty, Square.”

“Ay, but there’s more to come—­lay me back now, Lanty; lay me back till I whistle the Boyne Water.”

Lanty accordingly laid him back a little, and he immediately commenced an attempt to whistle that celebrated air by way of consolation on his death-bed.

“He’s not always settled, gentlemen,” said Lanty, “and I see that one of his wandering fits is comin’ on him now.”

“What is the reason,” said Captain Bredin—­for such was the rank of the person he called Dick—­“why is it that there is not a physician in attendance?”

“He would not let one of the thieves near him,” replied Lanty, “for fraid they’d kill him.”

“That is true,” observed Val; “he always entertained a strong antipathy against them, and would consult none.”

“Did Solomon M’Slime come?” he inquired.

“Here’s a foot on the stairs,” said Lanty, “maybe it’s he—­” and Lanty was right, for he had scarcely spoken when the worthy attorney entered.

“Solomon, you sleek, hypocritical rascal,” said he, “I do not forget you; read that paper; you will find at the bottom of it these words, on one side, ’sworn before me, this’—­no matter about the day—­signed ‘Randal Deaker;’ and on the other, ‘Susanna Bamet.’  Solomon, I could not die happily without this hit at you.  Your hypocrisy is known,—­ha, ha, ha!  Come, d—­n me; I never lived a hypocrite, and I won’t die one.  Lanty, you imp, the brandy.”

“I’ll only give him a little,” said the lad, looking and nodding at them.

“Come, then, ’the Glorious, Pious, and Immortal Memory!’—­hip—­ah, lay me down—­hi-p-p-p!”

He now closed his eyes for some time, and it was observed that strange and fearful changes came over his face.  Sometimes he laughed, and sometimes he groaned, and, indeed, no words could express the indescribable horror which fell upon those present, or, at least, upon most of them, as the stillness of the room was from time to time broken by the word—­“damnation” pronounced in the low and hollow voice of approaching death.

Solomon, who had glanced at the affiliating affidavit made by Susanna, was the first to break the silence.

“In truth, my friends,” said he, “I fear it is not good to be here; and were it not that I am anxious to witness what is rarely seen, a reprobate and blasphemous death-bed, I would depart even now.”

After some time Deaker called out—­“Help me up, Lanty; here, help me up, you whelp.”

Lanty immediately did so, and aided him to sit nearly upright in the bed.