"What is the balance that I owe you, Mr. Looney, for building those barns on my son's farm?" the Bishop was saying. "Seven pounds five shillings, my lord," the man answered, "and rael bad I'm wanting the money, too, my lord, and three months I'm afther waiting for it." "So you are, Mr. Looney. You would have been paid before this if I'd had wherewith to pay you." Then there was silence between the two, and Ewan was going on, when the Bishop added: "Here--here--take this;" there was a sound as of the rattle of keys, and seals, and a watch chain--"it was my old father's last gift to me, all he had to give to me--God bless his memory!--and I little thought to part with it--but there, take it and sell it, and pay yourself, Mr. Looney." The man seemed to draw back. "Your watch!" he said. "Aw, no, no, no! Och, if I'm never paid, never, it's not Patrick Looney that is the man to take the watch out of your pocket." "Take it--take it! Why, my good man"--the Bishop's voice was all but breaking--"you should not refuse to take the time of day from your Bishop." Then there was a jaunty laugh, with a great sob at the back of it. "Besides, I've found the old thing a sore tax on my failing memory this many day, to wind it and wear it. Come, it will wipe out my debt to you." Ewan went on; his teeth were set hard. Why had he overheard that conversation? Was it to whet his purpose? It seemed as if there might be some supernatural influence over him. But this was not the only conversation he overheard that day. When he got to the "Three Legs of Man" a carrier's cart stood outside. Ewan stepped into the lobby of the house. The old cat was counting up the chalk marks, vertical and horizontal, at the back of the cupboard door, and the carrier was sitting on a round table, recounting certain mad doings at Castletown. "'Let's down with the watch and take their lanterns,' says the captain, says he, laughing morthal and a bit sprung, maybe; and down they went, one a top o' the other, Jemmy the Red, and Johnny-by-Nite, and all the rest of them, bellowing strong, and the capt'n and his pals whipping up their lanterns and their truncheons, and away at a slant Aw, it was right fine." The carrier laughed loud at his story. "Was that when Mastha Dan was down at Castletown, fixing the business for the Fencibles?" "Aw, yes, woman, and middlin' stiff it cost him. Next morning Jemmy the Red and Johnny-by-Nite were off for the Castle, but the captain met them, and 'I'm not for denying it,' says he, and 'a bit of a spree,' he says, and Take this, Jemmy,' says he, 'and say no more.'" "And what did he give the watch to sweeten them?" "Three pound, they're saying. Aw, yes, woman, woman--liberal, very. None o' yer close-fisted about the captain."