It was evidently the equipage of a wealthy man. Two passengers were inside--a lady and a gentleman--both well cloaked, for it was a cold spring day. I could not see their faces, and should probably not have troubled myself twice about them, but for two strange incidents which happened, just as, having taken up what they called for, the carriage started on its journey. A man on the pavement, who had evidently been watching the halt, uttered a howl of execration and shook his fist at the window. A moment after, a young gentleman of military bearing, mounted on a grey horse, cantered up the road and overtook the coach on the other side. He carried a small bunch of flowers, which he stooped to pass in at the window to the lady, receiving in exchange a wave from one of the prettiest hands I ever saw. Next moment the coach was rattling down the street; and the gentleman having accompanied it a short distance, kissed his hand and wheeled up a side street and disappeared. Unless I was greatly deceived, that gentleman was Captain Lestrange. "Who are the travellers?" said I to the man who had shaken his fist. He was apparently a countryman, dressed in an old frieze coat, with a slouching hat. He ground his teeth as he turned on me. "The greatest villain on earth," said he. "I know him." "I suppose so," said I, "or you would hardly excite yourself about him." "Excite, is it? Man, dear, if there is a Judas on this earth, that's him! Excite? you'd be excited too." The man talked like one tipsy, but I did not think it was with drink. "What has he done to you?" said I. "Done? Isn't that the boy who's lured us all on, and then comes to Dublin to denounce us? Man alive, did you never hear of Maurice Gorman in your life?" It was as much as I could do to stand steady under this shock. "I was never in Dublin before," said I; "how should I? Is he an Englishman?" "Englishman? he's worse. He's an Irish traitor, I tell you, and feeds on the blood of his people. He was the toad that made fools of us all, and wormed himself into our secrets, and then turned and stabbed us in the back. But we're not dead yet. We'll be even with him." "Where has he gone now?" said I. "Away home with his girl, who's as bad as himself. Sure, you saw her coquetting with the young dandy just now. He's in the very middle of the nest of vipers that are plotting to grind the life out of Ireland. Maybe," said he, stopping suddenly and looking hard at me, "you're one of that same nest yourself?" "God forbid!" said I; "I love Ireland." "That's good hearing. You're one of us?" "Of the friends of my country, yes." "A sworn friend?" "I was sworn, yes," said I, determined at all cost to hear more of the business. "Come this afternoon to the printer's house in Marquis Street; you'll hear more of Gorman then, maybe. _Pikes and hemp_ is the word. No questions will be asked--not if you are Ireland's friend." "I'll be there," said I; "and God save Ireland!"