“Uncle,” said his nephew, “one word with you before you go.”

“What is it?”

“Would you suffer me to offer you a word of advice, and will you excuse me for taking such a liberty with a man of your experience?”

“Certainly, Harry, and shall always feel thankful to any one that gives me good advice.”

“If this is not good advice, it is at least well intended.”

“Let us hear it first, and then we shall judge better.”

“You say you will procure me a farm.  Now, uncle, there is one thing I should wish in connection with that transaction, which is, that you would have no underhand—­hem!—­no private understanding of any kind with Mr. Hycy Burke.”

“Me a private understanding with Hycy Burke!  What in the devil’s name has put such a crotchet as that into your head?”

“I only speak as I do, because I believe you have received a private communication from him.”

“Have I, faith!  If so I am obliged to you—­but I am simply ignorant of the fact you mention; for, with my own knowledge’, I never received a line from him in my life.”

“Then I must be wrong,” replied Harry; “that is all.”

“Wrong!  Certainly you are wrong.  Hycy Burke, I am told, is a compound of great knave and gross fool, the knavery rather prevailing.  But how is this?  Are not you and he inseparable?”

“He is a companion, uncle, but not a friend in the true sense—­nor, indeed, in any sense of that word.  I spoke now, however, with reference to a particular transaction, and not to his general character.”

“Well, then, I have no underhand dealings with him, as you are pleased to call them, nor ever had.  I never to my knowledge received a line from him in my life; but I tell you that if he comes in my way, and that I can make use of him, I will.  Perhaps he may serve us in the Elections.  Have you anything else to ask?”

“No sir,” replied Harry, laughing.  “Only I hope you will excuse me for the liberty I took.”

“Certainly, with all my heart, and you shall be always welcome to take the same liberty.  Good-bye, again.”

Clinton now felt satisfied that Hycy’s letter to his uncle was an anonymous one, and although he could not divine its contents, he still felt assured that it was in some way connected with the farm transaction, or at all events detrimental to Bryan M’Mahon.  He consequently resolved to see Hycy, against whom, or rather against whose principles he was beginning to entertain a strong repugnance, and without any hesitation to repudiate the engagement he had entered into with him.

He found Hycy at home, or rather he found him in conversation with Bat Hogan behind his father’s garden.

“What was that ruffian wanting with you, Hycy, if it’s a fair question?”

“Perfectly,” said Hycy, “from you; but not in sooth from your worthy uncle.”

“How is that?”

“Simply, he wants to know if I’d buy a keg of Poteen which, it seems, he has to sell.  I declined because I have a sufficiently ample stock of it on hands.”