Daly paid no attention to the remark, but muttered half aloud the contents of the document before him: “Check on Ball for eighteen thousand, payable at sight,--thirty-six thousand eight hundred and ten pounds in notes of the Bank of England,--gold, seventeen hundred guineas.” “There was a lob,” cried Freney, as he rubbed his hands together. “I was set up for life if I got half of it! And now, Mr. Daly, just tell me one thing: isn't Mr. Darcy there as bad as myself, to take all this money for his vote?” “How do you mean?” said Daly, sternly. “I mean that a gentleman born and bred as he is, oughtn't to sell his country for goold; that if a blackguard like myself takes to the road, it's all natural and reasonable, and the world's little worse off when they hang half a dozen of my kind; but for a real born gentleman of the old stock of the land to go and take money for his vote in Parliament!” “And who dares to say he did so?” cried Daly, indignantly. “Faix, that's the story up in Dublin; they say he 'd no other way of clearing off the debts on his property. Bad cess to me if I 'd do it! Here I am, a robber and a highwayman, I don't deny it, but may I wear hemp for a handkerchief if I 'd sell my country. Bad luck to the Union, and all that votes for it,” said he, as, filling a bumper of whiskey, he tossed it off to this laudable sentiment. “If you had n't wronged my friend the Knight of Gwynne, I'm not certain that I wouldn't have pledged your toast myself.” “If he 's a friend of yours I say nothing against him; but sure when he--” “Once for all,” said Daly, sternly, “this story is false;” while he added, in a low muttering to himself, “corruption must needs have spread widely when such a calumny was even ventured on.--And so, Freney, Hickman escaped you?” “He did, sir,” said Freney, sighing; “he made a lodgment in Kildare next day, and more of the money he carried up to town, guarded all the way by the two fellows I told you. Ah! Mr. Daly, if all the world was as cunning as old Peter, I might give up the road as a bad job. There! do you hear that? Listen, sir.” “What is it?” said Daly, after a moment's silence. “They're my nags, sir, coming up the road. I'd know their trot if I heard it among a troop of dragoons. 'T is clippers they are.” As he spoke he arose from the table, and, lighting a small lantern he always carried with him, hastened to the door, where already the two horses were standing, a bare-legged “gossoon” holding the bridles. [Illustration: 197] “Well, Jemmy, what 's the news to-night?” said Freney.