‘Dr. Toole, I presume, may dress my arm?’

‘Certainly, Sir.’

‘Good! what more?’

‘There’s a coach at the door, you’ll please to step in, Sir.’

’Good, Sir, again; and now permit me to make a remark.  I submit, Sir, to all this violence, and will go with you, under protest, and with a distinct warning to you, Mr. Lowe, and to your respectable body-guard of prize-fighters and ruffians—­how many?—­two, four, five, six, upon my honour, counting the gentleman upon the floor, and yourself, Sir—­seven, pitted against one old fellow, ha, ha, ha!—­a distinct warning, Sir, that I hold you accountable for this outrage, and all its consequences.’

‘See to that man; I’m afraid he has killed him,’, said Lowe.

He was not dead, however, but, as it seemed, suffering intense pain, and unable to speak except in a whisper.  They got him up with his back to the wall.

’You issue a warrant against another man whom I believe to be dead, and execute it upon me—­rather an Irish proceeding, Sir; but, perhaps, if not considered impertinent, you will permit me to enquire what is the particular offence which that other person has committed, and for which you have been pleased to shoot me?’

’You may read it on the warrant, Sir; ’tis for a murderous assault on Doctor Sturk.’

’Hey? better and better! why, I’m ready to pay five hundred guineas to make him speak; and you’ll soon find how expensive a blunder you’ve committed, Sir,’ observed Dangerfield, with a glare of menace through his hollow smile.

‘I’ll stand that hazard, Sir,’ rejoined Lowe, with a confident sneer.

The dreadful sounds of the brief scuffle had called up the scared and curious servants.  The smell of the pistol-smoke, the sight of blood, the pale faces of the angry and agitated men, and the spectacle of their master, mangled, ghastly, and smiling, affrighted Mrs. Jukes; and the shock and horror expressed themselves in tears and distracted lamentations.

‘I must have your keys, Sir, if you please,’ said Mr. Lowe.

‘A word first—­here, Jukes,’ he addressed his housekeeper; ’stop that, you fool!’ (she was blubbering loudly) ’’tis a mistake, I tell you; I shall be back in an hour.  Meanwhile, here are my keys; let Mr. Lowe, there, have them whenever he likes—­all my papers, Sir (turning to Lowe).  I’ve nothing, thank Heaven! to conceal.  Pour some port wine into that large glass.’

And he drank it off, and looked better; he appeared before on the point of fainting.

‘I beg pardon, gentlemen—­will you drink some wine?’

‘I thank you, no, Sir.  You’ll be good enough to give me those keys’ (to the housekeeper).

‘Give them—­certainly,’ said Dangerfield.

’Which of them opens the chest of drawers in your master’s bed-chamber facing the window?’ He glanced at Dangerfield, and thought that he was smiling wider, and his jaws looked hollower, as he repeated—­