go and try and hang a fellow out of mistake!  His lordship sees it’s all a mistake, and of course he’s the best able to judge of the lot here; a magistrate, and a nobleman and all.  I know you won’t see me wronged, Lord Ballindine, I know you won’t.  I give you my sacred word of honour as a gentleman, it all came from mistake when we were both drunk, or nearly drunk.  Come, Doctor Colligan, speak man—­isn’t that the truth?  I tell you, Mr Armstrong, Lord Ballindine’s in the right of it.  There is some mistake in all this.”

“As sure as the Lord’s in heaven,” said the doctor, now becoming a little uneasy at the idea that Lord Ballindine should think he had told so strange a story without proper foundation—­“as sure as the Lord’s in heaven, he offered me the farm for a reward, should I manage to prevent his sister’s recovery.”

“What do you think, Mr Armstrong?” said Lord Ballindine.

“Think!” said the parson—­“There’s no possibility of thinking at all.  The truth becomes clearer every moment.  Why, you wretched creature, it’s not ten minutes since you yourself accused Doctor Colligan of offering to murder your sister!  According to your own showing, therefore, there was a deliberate conversation between you; and your own evasion now would prove which of you were the murderer, were any additional proof wanted.  But it is not.  Barry Lynch, as sure as you now stand in the presence of your Creator, whose name you so constantly blaspheme, you endeavoured to instigate that man to murder your own sister.”

“Oh, Lord Ballindine!—­oh, Lord Ballindine!” shrieked Barry, in his agony, “don’t desert me! pray, pray don’t desert me!  I didn’t do it—­I never thought of doing it.  We were at school together, weren’t we?—­And you won’t see me put upon this way.  You mayn’t think much of me in other things, but you won’t believe that a school-fellow of your own ever—­ever—­ever—­” Barry couldn’t bring himself to use the words with which his sentence should be finished, and so he flung himself back into his armchair and burst into tears.

“You appeal to me, Mr Lynch,” said Lord Ballindine, “and I must say I most firmly believe you to be guilty.  My only doubt is whether you should not at once be committed for trial at the next assizes.”

“Oh, my G——!” exclaimed Barry, and for some time he continued blaspheming most horribly—­swearing that there was a conspiracy against him—­accusing Mr Armstrong, in the most bitter terms, of joining with Doctor Colligan and Martin Kelly to rob and murder him.

“Now, Mr Lynch,” continued the parson, as soon as the unfortunate man would listen to him, “as I before told you, I am in doubt—­we are all in doubt—­whether or not a jury would hang you; and we think that we shall do more good to the community by getting you out of the way, than by letting you loose again after a trial which will only serve to let everyone know how great a wretch there is in the county.  We will, therefore, give you your option either to stand your trial, or to leave the country at once—­and for ever.”