"Ah, by----! here's a pretty affair!" cried O'Donnell. "Very ill Sir John is not. He has got the gout in one foot and both hands, and is as cross as the yards of a ship; but his son takes all upon himself, and a base business he makes of it. What more? what more?" "Why, the son causes this noble gentleman to be arrested immediately for a spy, tears his pass to pieces, will not let him see the governor, and threatens to shoot him to-morrow morning." "And so he will, to be sure!" cried O'Donnell. "But what's to be done? How, in the fiend's name, can I help you? I'll not meddle with it--not a whit! I shall get shot some day myself if I don't mind." As he was speaking, Diggory Falgate returned with two drinking-cups; and without waiting for Barecolt's reply, he tapped O'Donnell on the shoulder, saying-- "I'll tell you how you can help us, Master O'Donnell. Nothing so easy in life, and no danger to yourself either, though you are not a fellow to fear that if there were. All that is wanted is to let the governor know what is going on, and he'll soon stop the colonel's doings; for the pass which that wild beast tore was in his own handwriting; and it will be an eternal blot upon his honour--worse than a black bend sinister on the shield of his arms--if any harm happens to the earl after giving him that." "The earl!" said O'Donnell. "Oh, ho! He is an earl, is he?" "What have you said, you fool?" cried Barecolt, turning angrily upon Falgate; but the painter, though he turned somewhat red, put the best face he could upon it, saying-- "Well, it's a slip of the tongue, captain; but it can't be helped, and you know you can trust him." "Ay, ay! trust me, sure enough," answered the Irishman. "But how am I to do anything in this?" and leaning his head upon his hand, he mused, while Barecolt mixed himself some Geneva and hot water, not particularly potent of the latter; and Falgate stood gazing at the master of the house, as if waiting for him to speak further. "I'll tell you what you can do, Master O'Donnell," said the painter at length, laying his hand upon the other's arm; "you can put on your hat and cloak, go down to Sir John Hotham, and ask to speak with him for a moment about his gout. We know he will see you, for Mrs. White told us all about it." "And if you have a snug little bottle of cordial waters under your arm, you are sure to get in," added Barecolt. "Come, come, Master O'Donnell; do not hesitate. There is no time to be lost." "On my life, that's a pretty joker!" cried O'Donnell, starting up: "that I am to go and put my neck in peril for a man I never saw in my life. I tell you, I'll have nothing to do with it. It's a bad case; and if they shoot him, they must."