"I don't find it so," answered Filmer; "but I dare say you do, sitting all alone here, with but a little spark like that. I was afraid you would get tired of waiting, and go to bed. I am much obliged to you for sitting up as I told you." "Oh! in course I did as your reverence said," answered Daniel Connor. "I always obey my priest." "That's right, Dan," answered Mr. Filmer. "Now I have come to tell you what I want you to do, like a good lad." "Anything your reverence says, I am quite ready to do," replied the Irishman. "I kept the matter quite quiet as you said, and not a bare word about it passed my lips to any of the servants, for I am not going to say anything that can hurt the master, for a better never lived than he." "No, Dan," answered the priest; "but I'll tell you what you must do, you must say a word or two to serve him." And Filmer fixed his eyes keenly upon the man's face, which brightened up in a moment with a very shrewd and merry smile, as he replied, "That I'll do with all my heart, your reverence. It's but the telling me what to say and I'll say it." "Well then, you see, Dan," continued Filmer, "this is likely to be a bad business for Mr. Clive, if we do not manage very skilfully. He is somewhat obstinate himself, and might with difficulty be persuaded to take the line of defence we want, and which indeed is necessary to his own safety. Now the first thing that will take place here is the coroner's inquest." "Ay! I suppose so," said Connor; "but they shan't get anything out of me there, I can answer for it. I can be as blind as a mole when I like, and as deaf too." "But you must be somewhat more, Dan," was the priest's reply. "You see, if suspicion fixes to no one, and the jury bring in a verdict of wilful murder against some person or persons unknown, the magistrates will never leave inquiring into the matter till they fix it upon your poor master. What we must do must be to turn the first suspicions upon some one else, so as to keep Mr. Clive free of them altogether, and then he will be safe enough." "Won't that be something very like murder, your reverence?" asked Connor, abruptly, with a very grave face. "I never did the like of that, and I think it's a sin, is it not?" "The sin be upon me," answered Filmer, sternly. "Cannot I absolve you, Daniel Connor, for that which I bid you do? Are _you_ going to turn heretic too? Do you doubt that the church has power to absolve you from your sins, or that where she points out the course to you the end does not justify the means?" "Oh, no! the blessed saints forbid!" exclaimed Connor, eagerly. "I don't doubt a word of it; I am quite sure your reverence is right; I was only just asking you, like!"