“Faith, sir,” replied Barney, “and I'm not the boy who is going to stand in your way in such a business as that. You know that it was I that put you up to it, and any assistance I can give you in it you may reckon on. Although not a magistrate, as you are, maybe I'm just as fond of justice as yourself. Of coorse I'll attend you to-night, and show you the devil's nest in which Sol Donnel and his blessed babe of a niece, by name Caterine Collins, live.” Greatrakes took down the name of Caterine Collins, and after having arranged the hour at which Barney was to conduct him to Sol Donnel's hut, they separated. About eleven o'clock that night Barney and Greatrakes reached the miserable-looking residence in which this old viper lived. “Now,” said Greatrakes, addressing the herbalist, “my business with you is this: I have a bitter enemy who wants to establish a claim upon my property, and I wish to put him out of my way. Do you understand me? I am a wealthy man, and can reward you well.” “I never talk of these things in the presence of a third party,” replied the herbalist, looking significantly at Barney, whom he well knew. “Well,” replied the other, “I dare say you are right. Casey, go out and leave us to ourselves.” There was a little hall in the house, which hall was in complete obscurity. Barney availed himself of this circumstance, opened the door and clapped it to as if he had gone out, but remained at the same time in the inside. “No, sir,” replied Sol Donnel, ignorant of the trick which Barney had played upon him, “I never allow a third person to be present at any of those conversations about the strength and power of my herbs. Now, tell me, what it is that you want me to do for you.” “Why, to tell you the truth,” replied Greatrakes, “I never heard of your name until within a few days ago, that you were mentioned to me by Mr. Henry Woodward, who told me that you gave him a dose to settle a dog that was laboring under the first symptoms of hydrophobia. Well, the dog is dead by the influence of the bottle you gave him; but now that we are by ourselves I tell you at once that I want a dose for a man who is likely, if he lives, to cut me out of a large property.” “O, Cheernah!” exclaimed the old villain, “do you think that I who lives by curin' the poor for nothing, or next to nothing, could lend myself to sich a thing as that?” “Very well,” replied the other, preparing to take his departure, “you have lost fifty pounds by the affair at all events.”