The old man pulled out a large snuff-box, and took a long pinch, which he crammed with his thumb first into one nostril, then into the other, bending his head at the same! time to each side, in order to enjoy it with greater relish, after which he gave a short deliberative cough or two. “Well,” said he, “I am Denis Dunphy.” “In that case, then,” replied the other, “I should very much wish to have a short private conversation with you of some importance. But you had better first read the reverend gentleman's letter,” he added, “and perhaps we shall then understand each other better;” and as he spoke he handed him the letter. The man received it, looked at it, and again took a more rapid and less copious pinch, peered keenly at the stranger, and asked--“Pray, sir, do you know the contents of this letter?” “Not a syllable of it.” He then coughed again, and having opened the document, began deliberately to peruse it. The stranger, who was disagreeably impressed by his whole manner and appearance, made a point to watch the effect which the contents of the document might have on him. The other, in the meantime, read on, and, as he proceeded, it was obvious that the communication was not only one that gave him no pleasure, but filled him with suspicion and alarm. After about twenty minutes--for it took him at least that length of time to get through it--he raised his head, and fastening his small, piercing eyes upon the stranger, said: “But how do I know that this letter comes from Father M'Mahon?” “I'd have you to understand, sir,” replied the stranger, nearly losing his temper, “that you are addressing a gentleman and a man of honor.” “Faith,” said the other, “I don't know whether I am or not. I have only your word for it--and no man's willin' to give a bad character of himself--but if you will keep the shop here for a minute or two, I'll soon be able to tell whether it's Father M'Mahon'a hand-write or not.” So saying, he deliberately locked both tills of the counter--to wit, those which contained the silver and coppers--then, surveying the stranger with a look of suspicion--a look, by the way, that, after having made his cash safe, had now something of the triumph and confidence of security in it, he withdrew to a little backroom, that was divided from the shop by a partition of boards and a glass door, to which there was a red curtain. “It is betther,” said the impudent old sinner, alluding to the cash in the tills, “to greet over it than greet afther it--just keep the shop for a couple of minutes, and then we'll undherstand one another, may be. There's a great many skamers going in this world.” Having entered the little room in question, he suddenly popped out his head and asked: