‘“Do you mane to insult me?” says the baron, getting mighty red, and throwing down the cards on the table. “Is that what you’re at?” ‘“Go on with the deal,” says Mr. Brooke quietly; “but listen to me,” and here he dropped his voice to a whisper, “as sure as you turn the king of hearts, I’ll send a bullet through your skull! Go on, now, and don’t rise from that seat till you ‘ve finished the game.” Faix he just did as he was bid; he turned a little two or three of diamonds, and gettin’ up from the table, he left the room, and the next morning there was no more seen of him in Aix-la-Chapelle. But that wasn’t the end of it, for scarce was the baron two posts on his journey when my master sends in his name, and says he wants to speak to Count Riedensegg. There was a long time and a great debatin’, I believe, whether they’d let him in or not; for the count couldn’t make if it was mischief he was after; but at last he was ushered into the bedroom where the other was in bed. ‘“Count,” says he, after he fastened the door, and saw that they was alone, “Count, you tried a dirty thrick with that dirty spalpeen of a baron--an ould blaguard that’s as well known as Preney the robber--but I forgive you for it all, for you did it in the way of business. I know well what you was afther; you wanted a peep at our despatches--there, ye needn’t look cross and angry--why wouldn’t ye do it, just as the baron always took a sly glance at my cards before he played his own. Well, now, I’m just in the humour to sarve you. They’re not trating me as they ought here, and I’m going away, and if you’ll give me a few letthers to some of the pretty women in Vienna, Katinka Batthyani, and Amalia Gradoffseky, and one or two men in the best set, I’ll send you in return something that will surprise you.” ‘It was after a long time and great batin’ about the bush, that the ould count came in; but the sight of a sacret cipher did the business, and he consented. ‘“There it is,” says Mr. Brooke, “there’s the whole key to our correspondence; study it well, and I’ll bring you a sacret despatch in the evening--something that will surprise you.” ‘“Ye will--will ye?” says the count. ‘“On the honour of an Irish gentleman, I will,” says Mr. Brooke. ‘The count sits down on the spot and writes the letters to all the princesses and countesses in Vienna, saying that Mr. Brooke was the elegantest, and politest, and most trusty young gentleman ever he met; and telling them to treat him with every consideration. ‘“There will be another account of me,” says the master to me, “by the post; but I ‘ll travel faster, and give me a fair start, and I ask no more.” ‘And he was as good as his word, for he started that evening for Vienna, without lave or license, and that’s the way he got dismissed from his situation.’ ‘And did he break his promise to the count, or did he really send him any intelligence?’