“Just because you 're the only man I ever heard tell of that was fond of danger for the fun of it. Did n't I see the leap you took at the Black Lough, just to show the English Lord-Lieutenant how an Irish gentleman rides, with the rein in your mouth, and your hands behind your back? Isn't that true?” Daly nodded, and muttered, “I have the old horse still.” “By the good day! I 'd spend a week in Newgate to see you on his back.” “Well, Freney,” said Daly, who seemed not disposed to encourage a conversation so personal in its allusions, “where have you been lately?--in the South?” “No, sir; I spent the last fortnight watching an old fox that doubled on me at last,--old Hickman, of Loughrea, that used to be.” “Old Hickman!--what of him?” cried Daly, whose interest became at once excited by the mention of the name. “I found out, sir, that he was to be down here at Kildare to receive his rents,--for he owns a fine estate here,--and that, besides, Tom Gleeson, the great agent from Dublin, was to meet him, as some said, to pay him a large sum of money for the Knight of Gwynne,--some heavy debt, I believe, owing for many a year.” “Yes, go on. What then?” “Well. I knew the reason Hickman wanted the money here: Lord Tyrawley was going to sell him a part of Gore's Wood, for hard cash--d 'ye mind, sir, hard cash--down on the nail, for my Lord likes high play at Daly's--” “D----n Lord Tyrawley!” said Daly, impatiently. “What of Hickman?” “Well, d----n him too! He's a shabby negur. I stopped 'him at Ball's Bridge once, and got but three guineas and some shillings for my pains. But to come back to old Hickman: I found he had arrived at the 'Black Dog,' and that Gleeson had come the same evening, and so I disguised myself like an old farmer the next morning, and pretended I wanted his advice about an asthma that I had, just to see the lie of the old premises, and whether he was alone, or had the two bailiffs with him, as usual. There they were, sir, sure enough, and well armed too, and fresh hasps on the door, to lock it inside, all secure as a bank. I saw these things while the old doctor was writing the prescription, for he tore a leaf out of his pocket-book to order me some stuff for the cough,--faith, 't is pills of another kind they 'd have given me if they found me out. That was all I got for my guinea in goold, not to speak of the danger;” and, so saying, he pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, and held it out towards Daly. “That's not it, sir; 't is the other side the writing is on.” But Daly's eyes were fixed upon the paper, which he held firmly between both hands. “Ay, I see what you are looking at,” said Freney; “that was a kind of memorandum the old fellow made of the money Gleeson paid him the day before.”