“You will give no information, then?”

“I don’t exactly say that—­it is probable I may.”

“Think of it, then,” said Val, “and let me tell you, there is little time to be lost.  I shall speak to you once again before I commit you—­that is, after I shall have punished this villain M’Loughlin, whom I hate as I hate hell; and mark me, you scoundrel, and reflect on this,—­I am a man who never yet forgave an injury; therefore don’t make me your enemy.  This M’Loughlin insulted me some years ago in Castle Cumber, and it is that insult that I am this day revenging upon his head—­so think of my words.”

“I shall think of them; I shall never forget them.”

“Keep this fellow in close custody,” said Val to the constables, as they re-entered the parlor—­“until the business of the day is over.  Mr. Sheriff, it is time now that you should do your duty.”

“I countermand that order,” said Easel.  “You see, Mr. M’Clutchy,” said the sheriff, smiling, “that here is a countermand.”

“Here is your rent in full, Mr. M’Clutchy,” said M’Loughlin, “and lest notes might not prove satisfactory, as they never do to you, there it is in gold.  You will find it right.”

“Well, really I am glad of this,” said Val, “it would have been painful to me to have gone to extremities.  Still there is the Ejectment to take place, as the leases have expired:  but that, my good neighbor, will be merely a form.  Of course you will be permitted to go in again as caretakers; but in the meantime we must get the furniture out, and receive possession in the proper way.  I was angry, Mr. M’Loughlin, a while ago, as I said and spoke hastily—­for indeed I am rather warm when promoting Lord Cumber’s interests; God forgive him in the meantime, for the disagreeable duties he too frequently put to me—­duties for which I am certain to incur the censure.”

“I countermand the order,” repeated Easel, with a singular smile on his face; “and desire you, Mr. M’Loughlin, to withhold your rent.”

“You!” exclaimed Val, looking at him.  “Yes!” he replied, walking over, and looking him sternly in the face.

“If it were worth while to ask your name I would—­but I believe I know it already.”

“Perhaps not.”

“Well, perhaps not; and pray what may it be?”

“I will tell you, sir,” replied Hartley.  “This gentleman is—­”

“Larry O’Trap, a Spy and Whiteboy Agent,” said Val, looking into the
Hue and Cry, and again surveying Easel.  “He is imposing on you, Mr.
Hartley.”

“This gentleman, sir,” proceeded Hartley, “is the Honorable Richard Topertoe, brother to the Right Honorable Lord Cumber—­”