By the gray half-light three figures were seen. One was a lady; so at least her position and attitude bespoke her, although her shawl was of a coarse and humble stuff, and her straw bonnet showed signs of time and season. She sat back in a deep leather chair, with hands folded, and her head slightly thrown forward, as if intently listening to the person who at a distance of half the room addressed lier. He was a thick-set, powerful man, in a jockey-cut coat and top-boots; a white hat, somewhat crushed and travel-stained, was at his feet, and across it a heavy horsewhip; his collar was confined by a single fold of a spotted handkerchief that thus displayed a brawny throat and a deep beard of curly black hair that made the head appear unnaturally large. The third figure was of a little, dapper, smart-looking personage, with a neatly powdered head and a scrupulously white cravat, who, standing partly behind the lady's chair, bestowed an equal attention on the speaker. The green-coated man, it was clear to see, was of an order in life far inferior to the others, and in the manner of his address, his attitude as he sat, and his whole bearing, exhibited a species of rude deference to the listeners. “Well, Jack,” cried the little man, in a sharp lively voice, “we knew all these facts before; what we were desirous of was something like proof,--something that might be brought out into open court and before a jury.” “I'm afraid then, sir,” replied the other, “I can't help you there. I told Mr. Daly all I knew and all I suspected, when I was up in Newgate; and if he had n't been in such a hurry that night to leave Dublin for the north, I could have brought him to the very house this fellow Garret was living in.” “Who is Garret?” broke in the lady, in a deep, full voice. “The late Mr. Gleeson's butler, ma'am,” said the little man; “a person we have never been able to come at. To summon him as a witness would avail us nothing; it is his private testimony that might be of such use to us.” “Well, you see, sir,” continued the green coat, or, as he was familiarly named by the other, Jack, whom, perhaps, our reader has already recognized as Freney, the others being Miss Daly and Bicknell,-“well, you see, sir, Mr. Daly was angry at the way things was done that night,--and sure enough he had good cause,-and sorra bit of a word he 'd speak to me when I was standing with the tears in my eyes to thank him; no, nor he wouldn't take the mare that was ready saddled and bridled in Healey's stables waiting for him, but he turned on his heel with 'D----n you for a common highwayman; it's what a man of blood and birth ever gets by stretching a hand to save you.'” “He should have thought of that before,” remarked Miss Daly, solemnly. “Faith, and if he did, ma'am, your humble servant would have had to dance upon nothing!” rejoined Freney, with a laugh that was very far from mirthful.