some view or trace of the assassin.  He had a case of pistols in his hand, for we ought to have told the reader that neither he nor his sons ever traveled unarmed, and on reaching the back-yard, he was obliged to make a considerable circuit ere he arrived at the spot from which the shot had been fired.  Here, however, he found no mark or vestige of a human being, but saw at a glance that the assassin, in order, to secure time for escape, had locked the door, and either taken the key with him or thrown it where it could not be found.  It was in vain that he ran in all directions, searched every place likely to conceal the villain; not a clump of trees or ornamental shrubs remained unexamined.  The search, however, was fruitless.  No individual was seen, nor any clue gained on which even a conjecture could be founded.  The only individual visible was our friend the Cannie Soogah, whose loud and mellow song was the first thing that drew their attention to him, as he came up a back avenue that led by a private and winding walk round to the kitchen-door.  Purcel, on seeing him, signed hastily with his hand that he should approach, which the other, observing the unusual agitation betrayed by his gesture, immediately did at a pace considerably quickened.

“Here, Cannie,” he shouted out to him, ere he had time to approach, “here has been an attempt at murder by some cold-blooded and cowardly assassin, who has, I fear, escaped us!”

“Murdher!” exclaimed the pedlar, “the Lord save and guard us!—­for there’s nothin’ but murdher in my ears! go where I will of late, it’s nothin’ but bloodshed;—­sure I cannot sing my harmless bit of a song along the road, but I’m stopped wid an account of some piece o’ murdher or batthery, or God knows what.  An’ who was near gettin’ it now, Misther Purcel?  Not yourself, I pray Jasus this day!”

“I really cannot say, Cannie; Dr. Turbot and I were walking in the garden, when some damnable villain discharged a pistol from the gate here, and the bullet of it whistled right between us both.”

“Whistled, did it!—­hell resave it for one bullet, it was fond of mirth it was; and you can’t say which o’ you it was whistling for?”

“No, how could I?—­it was equally near us both.”

“Bad cess for ever saize him for a murdherin’ villain, whoever he was.  You have no notion, Masther Purcel, darlin’, where he went to?”

“Not the slightest, Cannie; the villain wouldn’t have got off so easily, only that he had the diabolical cunning to lock the gate outside and conceal the key:  so that whilst I was coming round to the place, he escaped.  Did you meet or see nobody yourself?”