"Very well, Paddy," said I, "ask the messenger to take my compliments to the Earl and say to him I will do myself the honour of calling on him in an hour's time. Deliver that message to him; then come back and help me on with my new duds." When Paddy returned I was still yawning, but in the shake of a shillelah he had me inside the new costume, and he stood back against the wall with his hand raised in amazement and admiration at the glory he beheld. He said after that kings would be nothing to him, and indeed the tailor had done his best and had won his guineas with more honesty than you'd expect from a London tradesman. I was quietly pleased with the result myself. I noticed with astonishment that it was long after mid-day, so it occurred to me that Lord Strepp must have had a good sleep himself, and sure the poor boy needed it, for it's no pleasure to spend life underground till after you're dead, and his evening in the tunnel must have been very trying to him, as indeed he admitted to me afterward that it was. I called on Father Donovan, and he looked me over from head to foot with wonder and joy in his eye. "My dear lad, you're a credit to the O'Ruddys," he said, "and to Ireland," he said, "and to the Old Head of Kinsale," he said. "And to that little tailor in London as well," I replied, turning around so that he might see me the better. In spite of my chiding him Paddy could not contain his delight, and danced about the room like an overgrown monkey. "Paddy," said I, "you're making a fool of yourself." Then I addressed his Reverence. "Father Donovan," I began, "this cruel war is over and done with, and no one hurt and no blood shed, so the Earl--" At this moment there was a crash and an unearthly scream, then a thud that sounded as if it had happened in the middle of the earth. Father Donovan and I looked around in alarm, but Paddy was nowhere to be seen. Toward the wall there was a square black hole, and, rushing up to it, we knew at once what had happened. Paddy had danced a bit too heavy on an old trap-door, and the rusty bolts had broken. It had let him down into a dungeon that had no other entrance; and indeed this was a queer house entirely, with many odd nooks and corners about it, besides the disadvantage of Sir Goddard Oxenbridge tramping through the rooms in two sections. "For the love of Heaven and all the Saints," I cried down this trap-door, "Paddy, what has happened to you?" "Sure, sir, the house has fallen on me." "Nothing of the kind, Paddy. The house is where it always was. Are you hurted?" "I'm dead and done for completely this time, sir. Sure I feel I'm with the angels at last." "Tut, tut, Paddy, my lad; you've gone in the wrong direction altogether for them." "Oh, I'm dying, and I feel the flutter of their wings," and as he spoke two or three ugly blind bats fluttered up and butted their stupid heads against the wall.