Linton passed his arm familiarly within the other's, and in a voice of deep meaning, said: “Were you only as cautious as you are courageous, Tom, there's not a man in Europe I 'd rather take as my partner in a dangerous enterprise. You are a glorious fellow in the hour of peril, but you are a child, a mere child, when it's over.” Keane did not speak, but a leer of inveterate cunning seemed to answer this speech. “I say this, Tom,” said Linton, coaxingly, “because I see the risk to which your natural frankness will expose you. There are fellows prowling about on every side to scrape up information about this affair; and as, in some unguarded moment, when a glass too much has made the tongue run freely, any man may say things, to explain which away afterwards he is often led to go too far--You understand me, Tom?” “I do, sir,” said the other, nodding shortly. “It was on that account I came down here to-day, Tom. The trial is fixed for the 15th: now, the time is so short between this and that, you can surely keep a strict watch over yourself till 'all is over'?” “And what then, sir?” asked Tom, with a cunning glance beneath his brows. “After that,” rejoined Linton, affecting to mistake the meaning of the question--“after that, the law takes its course, and you trouble yourself no more on the matter.” “And is that all, Mr. Linton?--is that all?” asked the man, as, freeing himself from the other's arm, he drew himself up to his full height, and stood directly in front of him. “I must own, Tom, that I don't understand your question.” “I'll make it plain and azy for you, then,” said Keane, with a hardened determination in his manner. “'T was you yourself put me up to this business. 'T was you that left the pistol in my possession. 'T was you that towld me how it was to be done, and where to do it; and”--here his voice became deep, thick, and guttural with passion--“and, by the 'mortal God! if I 'm to hang for it, so will you too.” “Hang!” exclaimed Linton. “Who talks of hanging? or what possible danger do you run--except, indeed, what your own indiscreet tongue may bring upon you?” “Is n't it as good to die on the gallows as on the roadside?” asked the other, fiercely. “What betther am I for what I done, tell me that?” “I have told you before, and I tell you again, that when 'all is over' you shall be amply provided for.” “And why not before?” said he, almost insolently. “If you must know the reason,” said Linton, affecting a smile, “you shall hear it. Your incaution would make you at once the object of suspicion, were you to be seen with money at command as freely as you will have it hereafter.” “Will you give me that in writin'?--will you give it to me undher your hand?” asked Keane, boldly. “Of course I will,” said Linton, who was too subtle a tactician to hesitate about a pledge which could not be exacted on the instant. “That's what I call talkin fair,” said Keane; “an', by my sowl, it's the best of your play to trate me well.”