“No it’s not,” said the parson. “If you forget it, I can call in the servant to remember so much as that for me; but you’ll find it better, Mr Lynch, to let us finish this business among ourselves. Come, think about it. I’m sure you remember being knocked down by the doctor.” “I remember a scrimmage there was between us. I don’t care what the girl says, she didn’t see it. Colligan, I suppose, has given her half-a-crown, and she’d swear anything for that.” “Well, you remember the night of the scrimmage?” “I do: Colligan got drunk here one night. He wanted me to give him a farm, and said cursed queer things about my sister. I hardly know what he said; but I know I had to turn him out of the house, and there was a scrimmage between us.” “I see you’re so far prepared, Mr Lynch: now, I’ll tell you my version of the story.—Martin Kelly, just see that the door is shut. You endeavoured to bribe Doctor Colligan to murder your own sister.” “It’s a most infernal lie!” said Barry. “Where’s your evidence?—where’s your evidence? What’s the good of your all coming here with such a story as that? Where’s your evidence?” “You’d better be quiet, Mr Lynch, or we’ll adjourn at once from here to the open Court-house.” “Adjourn when you like; it’s all one to me. Who’ll believe such a drunken ruffian as that Colligan, I’d like to know? Such a story as that!” “My lord,” said Armstrong, “I’m afraid we must go on with this business at the Court-house. Martin, I believe I must trouble you to go down to the police barrack.” And the whole party, except Barry, rose from their seats. “What the devil are you going to drag me down to the Court-house for, gentlemen?” said he. “I’ll give you any satisfaction, but you can’t expect I’ll own to such a lie as this about my sister. I suppose my word’s as good as Colligan’s, gentlemen? I suppose my character as a Protestant gentleman stands higher than his—a dirty Papist apothecary. He tells one story; I tell another; only he’s got the first word of me, that’s all. I suppose, gentlemen, I’m not to be condemned on the word of such a man as that?” “I think, Mr Lynch,” said Armstrong, “if you’ll listen to me, you’ll save yourself and us a great deal of trouble. You asked me who my witness was: my witness is in this house. I would not charge you with so horrid, so damnable a crime, had I not thoroughly convinced myself you were guilty—now, do hold your tongue, Mr Lynch, or I will have you down to the Court-house. We all know you are guilty, you know it yourself—” “I’m—” began Barry. “Stop, Mr Lynch; not one word till I’ve done; or what I have to say, shall be said in public. We all know you are guilty, but we probably mayn’t be able to prove it—” “No, I should think not!” shouted Barry. “We mayn’t be able to prove it in such a way as to enable a jury to hang you, or, upon my word, I wouldn’t interfere to prevent it: the law should have its course. I’d hang you with as little respite as I would a dog.”