“I dare say you are right, Fergus, but between you and me again, who is this new-comer you mention? for you may rest assured that if he be very intimate with Darby Hourigan, you had as good keep an eye upon him.  Darby is one of the good ones.”

“I don’t even know his name yet,” replied Fergus, “but if we are to judge by appearances, he is somewhat of Darby’s kidney, for a worse-looking young vagabond I have seldom laid my eyes upon.  At all events I know Hourigan’s story to be a lie, for as he came up the avenue I was in the shrubbery, looking for a cock I shot, which dropped among the hollies, and there was certainly nobody there but this strange fellow and Hourigan, both of whom chatted to each other for some minutes across the hedge; and, by the way, I now remember that they kept watching about them suspiciously, as if they did not wish to be seen speaking together.  The fact, now that you have mentioned the case, is evident; I could not be deceived in this matter.”

“Well then,” said Purcel, “I will tell you how we shall bring that circumstance to a test:  get the strange fellow to walk my horse up and down the avenue, so as that he must necessarily come in Hourigan’s way, and if they refuse to speak in my presence you may accompany me down the avenue if you wish—­we may take it for granted that there is an understanding between them and on this account we will say nothing on our return, but that we failed to see or trace any one, which will be the truth, you know.”

Whilst this conversation took place between the two young men, our worthy magistrate, now that he had an opportunity of recruiting his courage, withdrew for a moment, accompanied by his servant and clerk, Sam Finigan.  “Sam,” said he, in undisguised trepidation, “my life’s not worth a week’s purchase.”

“That was a threatening letter you received, sir?” said Sam, inquiringly.

“The same, Sam.  Upon my honor and conscience, they have threatened me with the fate of Tandrem of Tavnibeg, who got five bullets into him, not fifty yards from his own door.  Get me the brandy then quick, and another bottle of soda-wather.  Good Lord!  Sam, see what it is to be an active and determined magistrate.”

“Well,” said Sam, after he had placed the brandy and soda-water before him, “it’s one comfort, plaise your honor, that if they shoot your worship, government will take a glorious revenge upon them.  The three kingdoms will hear of it.”

“Ay, but, Sam—­good Lord!—­here’s God grant us a long life in the manetime! but upon my honor and conscience it’s not revenge upon my own murdherers I want, but to be made a Stipendiary.  Revenge!  Good Lord! what is revenge to a murdhered man, Sam, maybe with five bullets in him!  Now, Sam, this is not want of courage in me—­but—­but—­mere distress of mind on looking at the state of the country.  A suspicious-looking villain to be lurking in my own shrubbery, with the very pistols sticking out of his pocket!  Good Lord!  I believe I’ll take another half-glass, Sam; I think I feel somewhat more intrepid—­more relieved.  Yes, pour me out another half-glass, or a whole one, as your hand is in, Sam, and take another for yourself.”