“I can't understand it at all,” replied the other. “He played without judgment, and betted rashly on every side. It was far more like Roland Cashel than Tom Linton.” “Well, you remember he said--to be sure, it was after drinking a quantity of wine--'Master Roland and I may change characters yet. Let us see if he can play “Linton,” as well as I can “Cashel.”'” “He's so deep, that I wouldn't say but there is something under all this.” And so they parted, sadly puzzled what interpretation to put on conduct, the mere result of a passing intemperance; for so it is, your “cunning men” are never reputed to be so deep by the world as when by some accident they, have forgotten their craft. CHAPTER XIV. MR. KENNYFECK AMONG THE BULLS With a bright flie upon his hook, He played mankind, as anglers play a fish. COTTER. An hour's sleep and a cold bath restored Linton to himself, and ere the guests of Tubbermore were stirring, he was up and ready for the day. He dressed with more than usual care, and having ordered a horse to be saddled and a groom to follow him, he sauntered out into the park, taking the road that led to the village. The groom rapidly overtook him; and then, mounting, he rode at a brisk trot down the road, and drew up at the door of the doctor's house. To his question, “If Mr. Tiernay were at home?” he received for answer, that “He had set out for Limerick that morning;” nor did the servant know when he might be expected back. For a moment this intelligence appeared to derange his plans; but he rallied soon, and turning his horse's head towards Tubbermore, muttered to himself, “As well,--perhaps better as it is.” He rode fast till he gained the wood, and then dismounting, he gave the horse to the groom, with directions to go home, as he would return on foot.