‘’Tis devilish strong—­ha, ha, ha—­conclusive, indeed.’  He was amused again.  ‘I’ve kept it long enough—­igni reservata.’

And holding it in the tongs, he lighted a corner, and as the last black fragment of it, covered with creeping sparks, flew up the chimney, he heard the voice of a gentleman hallooing in the court-yard.

CHAPTER LXXXI.

IN WHICH MR. DANGERFIELD RECEIVES A VISITOR, AND MAKES A CALL.

Dangerfield walked out and blandly greeted the visitor, who turned out to be Mr. Justice Lowe.

’I give you good-morning, Sir; pray, alight and step in.  Hallo, Doolan, take Mr. Justice Lowe’s horse.’

So Mr. Lowe thanked him, in his cold way, and bowing, strode into the Brass Castle; and after the customary civilities, sat himself down, and says he—­

’I’ve been at the Crown Office, Sir, about this murder, we may call it, upon Sturk, and I told them you could throw a light, as I thought, on the matter.’

‘As how, Sir?’

’Why, regarding the kind of feeling that subsisted between the prisoner, Nutter, and Doctor Sturk.’

‘’Tis unpleasant, Sir, but I can’t object.’

’There was an angry feeling about the agency, I believe?  Lord Castlemallard’s agency, eh?’ continued Lowe.

’Well, I suppose it was that; there certainly was an unpleasant feeling—­very unpleasant.’

‘You’ve heard him express it?’

’Yes; I think most gentlemen who know him have.  Why, he made no disguise of it; he was no great talker, but we’ve heard him on that subject.’

’But you specially know how it stood between them in respect of the agency?’

‘Yes.’

‘Very good, Sir,’ said Lowe.

’And I’ve a notion that something decisive should be done toward effecting a full discovery, and I’ll consider of a method,’ replied Dangerfield.

‘How do you mean?’ said Lowe, looking up with a glance like a hawk.

‘How! why I’ll talk it over with Mrs. Sturk this evening.’

‘Why, what has she got to tell?’

’Nothing, as I suppose; I’ll see her to-day; there’s nothing to tell; but something, I think, to be done; it hasn’t been set about rightly; ‘tis a botched business hitherto—­that’s in my judgment.’

’Yet ‘tis rather a strong case,’ answered Mr. Lowe, superciliously.

’Rather a strong case, so it is, but I’ll clench it, Sir; it ought to be certain.’

‘Well, Sir?’ said Lowe, who expected to hear more.

‘Yes,’ said Dangerfield, briskly, ’’twill depend on her; I’ll suggest, she’ll decide.’

‘And why she, Sir?’ said Lowe sharply.

’Because ‘tis her business and her right, and no one else can,’ answered Dangerfield just as tartly, with his hands in his breeches’ pockets, and his head the least thing o’ one side, and then with a bow, ’won’t you drink a glass of wine, Sir?’ which was as much as to say, you’ll get no more from me.