“Then there can’t be any mistake about it, my lord,” said Armstrong. “If he did not feel that his life was in the doctor’s hands, he would not put up with being knocked down. And I’ll tell you what’s more—if you tax him with the murder, he’ll deny it and defy you; but tax him with having been knocked down, and he’ll swear his foot slipped, or that he’d have done as much for the doctor if he hadn’t run away. And then ask him why the doctor knocked him down?—you’ll have him on the hip so.” “There’s something in that,” said Frank; “but the question is, what is Doctor Colligan to do? He says he can’t swear any information on which a magistrate could commit him.” “Unless he does, my lord,” said Armstrong, “I don’t think you should listen to him at all; at least, not as a magistrate.” “Well, Doctor Colligan, what do you say?” “I don’t know what to say, my lord. I came to your lordship for advice, both as a magistrate and as a friend of the young man who is to marry Lynch’s sister. Of course, if you cannot advise me, I will go away again.” “You won’t come before me and Mr Brew, then?” “I don’t say I won’t,” said Colligan; “but I don’t see the use. I’m not able to prove anything.” “I’ll tell you what, Ballindine,” said the parson; “only I don’t know whether it mayn’t be tampering with justice—suppose we were to go to this hell-hound, you and I together, and, telling him what we know, give him his option to stand his trial or quit the country? Take my word for it, he’d go; and that would be the best way to be rid of him. He’d leave his sister in peace and quiet then, to enjoy her fortune.” “That’s true,” said Frank; “and it would be a great thing to rid the country of him. Do you remember the way he rode a-top of that poor bitch of mine the other day—Goneaway, you know; the best bitch in the pack?” “Indeed I do,” said the parson; “but for all that, she wasn’t the best bitch in the pack: she hadn’t half the nose of Gaylass.” “But, as I was saying, Armstrong, it would be a great thing to rid the country of Barry Lynch.” “Indeed it would.” “And there’d be nothing then to prevent young Kelly marrying Anty at once.” “Make him give his consent in writing before you let him go,” said Armstrong. “I’ll tell you what, Doctor Colligan,” said Frank; “do you get into your own gig, and follow us on, and I’ll talk the matter over with Mr Armstrong.” The doctor again returned to his buggy, and the parson to his own seat, and Lord Ballindine drove off at a pace which made it difficult enough for Doctor Colligan to keep him in sight. “I don’t know how far we can trust that apothecary,” said Frank to his friend. “He’s an honest man, I believe,” said Armstrong, “though he’s a dirty, drunken blackguard.” “Maybe he was drunk this evening, at Lynch’s?”