concerns; but I do feel anxious about this matter.  I want to have a respectable house in the country, in which I can show my face when I grow a little older, and be allowed to sip my glass of claret, and talk about my horses, in spite of my iniquitous propensities—­and I expect to be allowed to do so at Kelly’s Court.  But, if you let Miss Wyndham slip through your fingers, you won’t have a house over your head in a few years’ time, much less a shelter to offer a friend.  For God’s sake, start for Grey Abbey at once.  Why, man alive, the ogre can’t eat you!

The whole town is in the devil of a ferment about Brien.  Of course you heard the rumour, last week, of his heels being cracked?  Some of the knowing boys want to get out of the trap they are in; and, despairing of bringing the horse down in the betting by fair means, got a boy out of Scott’s stables to swear to the fact.  I went down at once to Yorkshire, and published a letter in Bell’s Life last Saturday, stating that he is all right.  This you have probably seen.  You will be astonished to hear it, but I believe Lord Tattenham Corner got the report spread.  For heaven’s sake don’t mention this, particularly not as coming from me.  They say that if Brien does the trick, he will lose more than he has made these three years, and I believe he will.  He is nominally at 4 to 1; but you can’t get 4 to anything like a figure from a safe party.

   For heaven’s sake go to Grey Abbey, and at once.

   Always faithfully,

   W. BLAKE.

This letter naturally increased Lord Ballindine’s uneasiness, and he wrote a note to Mr Armstrong, informing him that he would not trouble him to go at all, unless he could start the next day.  Indeed, that he should then go himself, if Mr Armstrong did not do so.

This did not suit Mr Armstrong.  He had made up his mind to go; he could not well return the twenty pounds he had received, nor did he wish to forego the advantage which might arise from the trip.  So he told his wife to be very careful about her thumb, made up his mind to leave the three policemen for once without spiritual food, and wrote to Lord Ballindine to say that he would be with him the next morning, immediately after breakfast, on his road to catch the mail-coach at Ballyglass.

He was as good as his word, or rather better; for he breakfasted at Kelly’s Court, and induced Lord Ballindine to get into his own gig, and drive him as far as the mail-coach road.

“But you’ll be four or five hours too soon,” said Frank; “the coach doesn’t pass Ballyglass till three.”

“I want to see those cattle of Rutledge’s.  I’ll stay there, and maybe get a bit of luncheon; it’s not a bad thing to be provided for the road.”

“I’ll tell you what, though,” said Frank.  “I want to go to Tuam, so you might as well get the coach there; and if there’s time to spare, you can pay your respects to the bishop.”