“At any rate, uncle, I must admit that you are exceedingly candid.”

“No such thing, you fool; there is scarcely an atom of candor in my whole composition—­I mean to the world, whatever I may be to you.  Candor, Harry, my boy, is a virtue which very few in this life, as it goes, can afford to practice—­at least I never could.”

“Well but, uncle, is it not a pity to see that honest family ruined and driven out of the country by the villany of Burke on the one hand, and the deliberate fraud and corruption of Fethertonge, on the other.  However, now that you are resolved to unmask Fethertonge, I am satisfied.  It’s a proof that you don’t wish to see an honest family oppressed and turned, without reasonable compensation, out of their property.”

“It’s a proof of no such thing, I tell you.  I don’t care the devil had the M’Mahons; but I am bound to this ninnyhammer of a landlord, who has got me promoted, and who promises, besides, to get an appointment for you.  I cannot see him, I say, fleeced and plucked by this knavish agent, who winds him about his finger like a thread; and, as to those poor honest devils of M’Mahons, stop just a moment and I will show you a document that may be of some value to them.  You see, Fethertonge, in order to enhance the value of his generosity to myself, or, to come nearer the truth, the value of Ahadarra, was the means of placing a document, which I will immediately show you, in my hands.”

He went to his office or study, and, after some search, returned and handed the other a written promise of the leases of Ahadarra and Carriglass, respectively, to Thomas M’Mahon and his son Bryan, at a certain reasonable rent offered by each for their separate holdings.

“Now,” he proceeded, “there’s a document which proves Fethertonge, notwithstanding his knavery, to be an ass; otherwise he would have reduced it to ashes long ago; and, perhaps, after having turned it to his account, he would have done so, were it not that I secured it.  Old Chevydale, it appears, not satisfied with giving his bare word, strove, the day before he died, to reduce his promise about the lease to writing, which he did, and entrusted it to the agent for the M’Mahons, to whom, of course, it was never given.”

“But what claim had you to it, uncle?”

“Simply, if he and I should ever come to a misunderstanding, that I might let him know he was in my power, by exposing his straightforward methods of business; that’s all.  However, about the web that this fellow Burke has thrown around these unfortunate devils the M’Mahons, and those other mighty matters that you told of, let me hear exactly what it is all about and how they stand.  You say there is likely to be hanging or transportation among them.”

“Why, the circumstances, sir, are these, as nearly as I am in possession of them:—­There is or was, at least a day or two ago, a very pretty girl—­”

“Ay, ay—­no fear but there must be that in it; go along.”