Screams for mercy made his blood run cold. Two men lay panting on a heap of straw; one quite old and feeble, released but recently from the lash. The elder would evidently soon be quit of his destroyers, for his lips were blue and his eyes glazed. The other, roused by a shout of laughter, stirred his head to curse his tormentors. This was enough for them. What a fine opportunity for a newly-developed joke! Quick--some gunpowder! Biddy poured some into two outstretched, palms. Rub it well into his hair--with a will now, Biddy--for it's shock, and will hold a prime dose. Now, stand well aside while we fire it with a long match. Horror-stricken, Phil escaped--his slow brains chaotic in unaccustomed whirl. What should he do? His charmer had developed into a fiend. Was she who had enthralled his affections the one who was at the bottom of all the mischief--the arch-betrayer of secrets? She had been in everybody's confidence--Miss Wolfe's (God bless her!), Mr. Cassidy's, Master Terence's--all! The snake in the grass, whose existence puzzled the gentry so. Could it be she? Had he not better speak out and tell them? No. They were conversing so earnestly. It was not his place to interrupt his betters. The intelligence would keep. He would make a clean breast of all he suspected to his master in private. And his betters had good cause for the earnestness of their talk. When Mr. Grattan threw up his parliamentary seat, Curran had twitted him for loss of temper. But now his turn was come. He had spoken out rashly in the debate, which was still droning on--had distributed rhetorical slaps in the face, which caused the friends of Government to wince. Then one, bolder than the rest, interrupted the flow of his eloquence by saying: 'We're growing warm. Will any gintleman tell us an anecdote to bring us into a better temper?' And then Curran, flying in a rage, declared that he was wasting the energies which would serve him better in another place, and proceeded to abdicate with scorn his seat as member. Terence, when he heard of it, doubted the wisdom of the move, and begged leave to know, as nearly as he might, what the orator had said. 'I charged them openly,' was the simple reply, 'with their corrupt practices. I charged them with a systematic endeavour to undermine the constitution in violation of the law of the land. I charged them with being public malefactors, public criminals. Then I was called to order, and I repeated the charge even yet more strongly, bawling out: "Why not expel me now? Why not send me to the bar of the Lords? Going out, I will repeat the accusation, and the winds shall carry it--that the ministers are traitors, who should be publicly impeached--and, advancing to the bar of the Lords, I will repeat it there. If I am to suffer in the public cause, I will go further than my prosecutors in virtue as in danger."'