“Oh, but he had—debts which ought to have been his; though, as I said, they stand in my name, and I must pay them.” “And, I suppose, what you now want is to saddle the debts on the entire property? If you can really prove that the debts were incurred for your father’s benefit, I should think you might do that. But has your sister refused to pay the half? They can’t be heavy. Won’t Miss Lynch agree to pay the half herself?” This last lie of Barry’s—for, to give the devil his due, old Sim hadn’t owed one penny for the last twenty years—was only a bright invention of the moment, thrown off by our injured hero to aggravate the hardships of his case; but he was determined to make the most of it. “Not heavy?—faith, they _are_ heavy, and d–– ––d heavy too, Mr Daly!—what’ll take two hundred a-year out of my miserable share of the property; divil a less. Oh! there’s never any knowing how a man’ll cut up till he’s gone.” “That’s true; but how could your father owe such a sum as that, and no one know it? Why, that must be four or five thousand pounds?” “About five, I believe.” “And you’ve put your name to them, isn’t that it?” “Something like it. You know, he and Lord Ballindine, years ago, were fighting about the leases we held under the old Lord; and then, the old man wanted ready money, and borrowed it in Dublin; and, some years since—that is, about three years ago,—sooner than see any of the property sold, I took up the debt myself. You know, it was all as good as my own then; and now, confound it! I must pay the whole out of the miserable thing that’s left me under this infernal will. But it wasn’t even about that I sent for you; only, I must explain exactly how matters are, before I come to the real point.” “But your father’s name must be joined with yours in the debt; and, if so, you can come upon the entire property for the payment. There’s no difficulty about that; your sister, of course, must pay the half.” “It’s not so, my dear fellow. I can’t explain the thing exactly, but it’s I that owe the money, and I must pay it. But it’s no good talking of that. Well, you see, Anty—that’s my sister, has this property all in her own hands. But you don’t drink your punch,” and Barry mixed his third tumbler. “Of course she has; and, surely she won’t refuse to pay half the claims on the estate?” “Never mind the claims!” answered Barry, who began to fear that he had pushed his little invention a thought too far. “I tell you, I must stand to them; you don’t suppose I’d ask her to pay a penny as a favour? No; I’m a little too proud for that. Besides, it’d be no use, not the least; and that’s what I’m coming to. You see, Anty’s got this money, and—You know, don’t you, Mr Daly, poor Anty’s not just like other people?” “No,” said Mr Daly—“I didn’t. I can’t say I know much about Miss Lynch. I never had the pleasure of seeing her.” “But did you never hear she wasn’t quite right?” “Indeed, I never did, then.”