Such a mixture of swearing, groaning, shrieking, praying, screaming, and screeching was never before heard in that neighborhood, and in the space of a minute the room was nearly vacated, McKenna, the corpse, the candles, and furniture being left sole possessors of the field. Some of the demoralized friends of the deceased did not pause before reaching their own homes, and many not until well outside the house, while a few of the more courageous rallied in the kitchen. Flaherty, whose actions the operative had watched attentively, was among the first to stick his freckled face in at the door and inquire if “anybody were kilt.” He found McKenna trying to lift up the corpse, rearrange its disturbed funereal costume, and replace it on the board. “Come here, ye _gorsoon-bo_, an’ lend a hand to hoist the old man back to his restin’-place!” The lad at first refusing, the detective had but to hint that the piece of cord, with which Flaherty had cunningly pulled away the door, still remained attached to a hinge, and if he did not carry it off, his trick would be exposed, to bring the young man in to his assistance. “Lay holt wid me, and I’ll say nothing about the string! Refuse, and you’ll suffer! D’ye think I didn’t hear ye scrame like a young locomotive?” “Sure, an’ I only meant to have a bit of fun!” explained Flaherty; but he entered and helped to replace things. When all was as before—and it took but a few minutes—Flaherty called out to the crowd: “Come back! Come back! Daddy Raines is all right!” Then the men and women who had not gone home returned, their eyes sticking out, and each person treading on tip-toe, perhaps expecting to see a _banshee_, the gentleman in black—or his counterpart in hoof, tail, and horns, with nostrils breathing fire and smoke—and were much amazed to behold everything exactly as arranged before the sudden rising of the dead; the candles burning, the table undisturbed, and old Mr. Raines just as quiet and decent a corpse as any of them had ever helped to wake; while McKenna sat silent on his billet, at the side, smoking his pipe as calmly as if nothing out of the ordinary course had transpired. Young Flaherty kept the secret, through fear of the consequences should he reveal his share in the ghastly joke, and the agent did not care to undeceive the people. Hence the strange occurrence was spoken of for some weeks thereafter, in the vicinity, as about the eighth wonder of the world. McKenna was highly complimented for his nerve by men and women, and Monaghan himself said he “believed that nothing would ever scare that fellow—excepting it might be Auld Nick in person!” ————●———— CHAPTER XXI. CONTEST WITH A CONSTABLE.