This letter naturally increased Lord Ballindine’s uneasiness, and he wrote a note to Mr Armstrong, informing him that he would not trouble him to go at all, unless he could start the next day. Indeed, that he should then go himself, if Mr Armstrong did not do so. This did not suit Mr Armstrong. He had made up his mind to go; he could not well return the twenty pounds he had received, nor did he wish to forego the advantage which might arise from the trip. So he told his wife to be very careful about her thumb, made up his mind to leave the three policemen for once without spiritual food, and wrote to Lord Ballindine to say that he would be with him the next morning, immediately after breakfast, on his road to catch the mail-coach at Ballyglass. He was as good as his word, or rather better; for he breakfasted at Kelly’s Court, and induced Lord Ballindine to get into his own gig, and drive him as far as the mail-coach road. “But you’ll be four or five hours too soon,” said Frank; “the coach doesn’t pass Ballyglass till three.” “I want to see those cattle of Rutledge’s. I’ll stay there, and maybe get a bit of luncheon; it’s not a bad thing to be provided for the road.” “I’ll tell you what, though,” said Frank. “I want to go to Tuam, so you might as well get the coach there; and if there’s time to spare, you can pay your respects to the bishop.” It was all the same to Mr Armstrong, and the two therefore started for Tuam together. They had not, however, got above half way down the avenue, when they saw another gig coming towards them; and, after sundry speculations as to whom it might contain, Mr Armstrong pronounced the driver to be “that dirty gallipot, Colligan.” It was Colligan; and, as the two gigs met in the narrow road, the dirty gallipot took off his hat, and was very sorry to trouble Lord Ballindine, but had a few words to say to him on very important and pressing business. Lord Ballindine touched his hat, and intimated that he was ready to listen, but gave no signs of getting out of his gig. “My lord,” said Colligan, “it’s particularly important, and if you could, as a magistrate, spare me five minutes.” “Oh, certainly, Mr Colligan,” said Frank; “that is, I’m rather hurried—I may say very much hurried just at present. But still—I suppose there’s no objection to Mr Armstrong hearing what you have to say?” “Why, my lord,” said Colligan, “I don’t know. Your lordship can judge yourself afterwards; but I’d rather—” “Oh, I’ll get down,” said the parson. “I’ll just take a walk among the trees: I suppose the doctor won’t be long?” “If you wouldn’t mind getting into my buggy, and letting me into his lordship’s gig, you could be following us on, Mr Armstrong,” suggested Colligan. This suggestion was complied with. The parson and the doctor changed places; and the latter, awkwardly enough, but with perfect truth, whispered his tale into Lord Ballindine’s ear.