“Paddy Murphy,” suddenly put in Con, who had been listening to the foregoing. “What is it, Con Cogan?” “It’s a fool you are.” “Howsome, which way?” asked Mr Murphy. “Can’t we get into the house the same way I got Patsy out to-night?” “And how was that?” “Through his bedroom window; it’s on the floor be the ground, and there’s no locks or screws to it, for he opened it to-night for me with a turn of his wrist.” “Faith, and that simplificates matters,” said Mr Murphy. “And now I’ll draw up me plan of campaign. Patsy Rooney!” “Yes, Mr Murphy.” “You be all ears like an elephant whilst I tell you what you’re to be doin’. First and foremost, whin the company arrives you’re to spot the ould lady who has the big jewels. What do you say was her name?” “Lady Molyneux,” replied Patsy. “Having spotted her, you’re to find out where she sleeps. Are yiz listenin’?” “Yes, Mr Murphy.” “You’re to lie awake every night till the clock strikes twelve. One night in a day or two you’ll hear a tap at your bedroom windy, you’ll open the windy and I’ll come in; then you’ll go foreninst me and lead me to the ould lady’s bedroom. Don’t be thinking it’s her jewels I’m afther, I am only wishful to read tracts to her and see if she’s said her prayers. Now do you understand clear what you’ve got to do?” “Yes, Mr Murphy.” “Will yiz swear to do it?” “Yes, Mr Murphy.” “Well, then, repeat the form of the oath I’m going to tell you; say it after me sintince by sintince. Are yiz ready?” “Yes, Mr Murphy.” “I, Patsy Rooney,” began the other, beating time with his stick, whilst Patsy followed him sentence by sentence, “bein’ in me sound mind and body, hereby swears to do all Mr Murphy bids me to do the uttermost farthin’ wid diligence and despatch. And if I don’t, may me eyes pop out of me head like burnin’ ches’nuts off a hob; may me tongue hang down to me heels and thrail in the dust and be dry ever after for want of a drink, and may me hair turn grey as a badger and fall off, leaving the head of me bald as a coot. May me lift hand be turned into me right hand, me feet twisted backwards, me legs stuck where me arms be, and the nose of me turned to the snout of a pig.” “Ohone!” wailed Patsy, when he had finished this oath, “sure, it’s ruined I am entirely!” The mental picture of the figure he would cut, should he fail to carry out Mr Murphy’s biddings, stood before his mind’s eye with horrible distinctness. No other form of oath, perhaps, could have had a more powerful effect on the half-savage mind of the boy. “That’s what you’ll be if you do a hair’s-breadth beyond what I tell you,” said Mr Murphy. “You’ve swore to it now, and you’ll have to stick to it, or eat ever after out of a trough. And now I’m goin’ to brand you and make a freemason of you, so that you’ll know what’s in store for you if you fails to keep your oath.”