“Now,” said Mr Murphy to the half-naked figure before him, “I’ll give yiz a chanst. I’m goin’ to count five; at the fifth sthroke I’ll fire if there’s a speck of yiz to be seen. Use your legs—Wan—two—three—four——Mr Fanshawe, sir!” “Yes?” “Did yiz happen to see a party be the name of Billy Croom around here anywhere in the neebourhood to-day?” “I did,” said Mr Fanshawe, “but he seems to have gone.” “Faith,” said Mr Murphy, putting his leg over the edge of his fortress and scrambling down, “he’s left his clothes behint him.” He approached Mr Fanshawe and the trembling Con. “There’s a lady in the wood, sir, and maybe you’ll be escorthin’ her home. Good-mornin’, Con Cogan, I have a word to say with you.” “Don’t lave me with him, sir,” implored Con, “or it’s me brains he’ll be blowin’ out.” “Don’t you be afear’d, sir,” said Paddy; “sure, he hasn’t any brains to blow. I’m not goin’ to hurt a feather of him.” “Well, I can’t stay here all day,” said Mr Fanshawe; “you must settle your differences between you. What are you going to do? The police will have you, sure. Why don’t you get out of the country?” “Sure, where could I go?” said Mr Murphy. “Go to America. Here’s a couple of sovereigns for you; and, see here, if you’ll make up your mind to cut the country I’ll help. Apply to me at No. 10A Merrion Square, Dublin, and I’ll pay your passage, and give you a fiver to start you.” “Sure, what could I do in Amerika?” said Mr Murphy, pocketing the coins without a word of thanks. “Do? Why, go on the stock exchange—no, go into politics, that’s your true position in life. You waste your time here. Well, I’m off—good-day.” “Good-day to yiz,” replied the other. “Sure, it’s you I’d like to have at me elbow in a row.” “Oh, I think you’re able to look after yourself;” said Mr Fanshawe, as he departed. “I’m not a chicken,” replied the other. “Good-day to yiz. Come, Con, we’ve words to say to wan another.” “O Dicky,” said Violet, when—having found each other by hallooing—they pressed their lips together, “I’m so frightened. Has he shot him?” “No,” replied Mr Fanshawe, chuckling, “but he’s done nearly as bad. Come on, and let’s find the road; it’s half-past twelve, and that confounded luncheon will be kept waiting for us again.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XXXIV MR MURPHY IN EXCELSIS “Now, Misther Cogan,” said Paddy, when the last glimpse of Mr Fanshawe had vanished amidst the trees, “a word in your ear.” “Paddy,” said Con Cogan, who was white to his lips, and licking them, “you may b’lave me or not, but it wasn’t I set Billy Croom on to yiz.” “Who said you did?” asked Paddy. “Who said Con Cogan ever went back on a friend? Show me the man that siz it, and I’ll show you his liver on the pint of a stick.” Con Cogan would have much preferred Paddy to have stormed at him. You see, he knew his man.