“I made two attempts to send you information, but your d------d master, like bad fortune, was always in the way; my sister Mary will strive to hand you this. To-night our fate must be decided, for Luke Byrn, Cooney, and your brother are betrayed, and at sunrise to-morrow, if there be a living man in Knockloftie, they’re all dead men; the witnesses are to be removed to Donegal, and if they once reach it, Cooney will split, and you and I are certain of the gallows. At _one o’clock_ I’ll be with you; lave the window open, and I’ll show the boys the way in, as I know the house, and the smith has keys that will open the yard gate. Once when four or five of us gets in, we’ll open the hall door for the remainder; you can finish the master easily when he hears the first alarm and rushes from his room; the rest will be child’s play, and then _no quarter_. The black seal is to this paper; mind, Hackett, you’re to watch the Colonel’s door, and I’ll be first man through the window. No more at present, from your friend and commander, “James Halligan.” “But here’s a postscript,” and the parson turned the paper. “‘When the job’s over we’ll have a roaring night. As, captain, you know the Colonel’s lady--’” He paused. “Read on!” said my father. “No, no,--mere ribald nonsense,” returned the churchman. Colonel O’Halloran snatched the letter from his hand, and in one glance his eye passed over the portion of the paper which had been previously overlooked. To the _expose_ of Halligan’s murderous intentions my father had listened with cold and contemptuous indifference: but when he read the postscript, a terrible change came over his countenance, and succeeded its previous expression of calm defiance. The eye flashed, the brow contracted, and springing from his chair the Colonel paced the room, muttering something between his clenched teeth which was but partially overheard. The outbreak of his passion was however as momentary as it had been strong,--and in a minute he resumed his seat, and calmly addressed the Doctor. “We have,” said my father as he looked at the clock on the mantel, “an hour and twenty minutes to put our house in order, and a tenth portion of the time would be sufficient. You shall be aide-de-camp, Hamilton,--and to Father Dominic we’ll entrust the management of the women, and make his reverence keep matters quiet and administer ghostly consolation until the squall blows over. Mr. Hackett must be secured, but Heaven forbid the honest hangman should be anticipated! Cut down that bell-rope--now pull the other one--and then sit down and fill, Doctor,--ay, fill high, Confusion to all traitors! and here comes a most superlative scoundrel.”