“Sam,” said he, after a fit of tremulous coughing, into which he forced himself, in order to conceal the quaver which terror had given to his voice, “Sa--am--hugh! ugh!--go-o--an-n-d--ugh! ugh! ugh!--get a ca-a-se of doub-uble pis-pistols--ugh! ugh!--da--amn this cough--ough--and place--them-em on the table here--we--we--will at least pep-pepper the villain--if--if--he--he should dare to show his face---ace. I trust I--I--know my duties as--a mag-istrate--my cour--urage and in-trep--id--ity as such--ugh! ijg'h! ugh!--are no saycret now, I think.” “I don't believe,” observed Purcel, “that there is one syllable of truth in what he says. I can read the falsehood in his eye. However,” he added, “if you will postpone this matter of Hourigan's for a few minutes, I shall soon see whether there is any one there or not.” “Here, then,” said the magistrate, “take these pistols” (pointing to those which Finigan had just laid on the table). Purcel declined them with a nod, taking a good case at the same time out of his own pocket. “No, sir, thank you, I never travel without my two friends here, with either of which I can break a bottle at the distance of thirty yards. You will be good enough to tell that to your friends, Mr. Hourigan, and also to reflect upon it yourself.” Having examined his friends, as he called them, he started out and proceeded directly towards the shrubbery, where, however, there was no trace whatever of any one. On his way home he met Fergus O'Driscol, who had been out that morning cock-shooting through the grounds, and to whom he mentioned the story told by Hourigan. “Why, the lying scoundrel,” exclaimed Fergus, “I saw him myself speaking to a new laboring lad whom Mr. Arthur, the steward, sent in there this morning to gather and remove the rotten underwood. He has only vamped up this story to frighten my heroic father, and between you and me it is not difficult to do.” “I dare say you are right, Fergus, but between you and me again, who is this new-comer you mention? for you may rest assured that if he be very intimate with Darby Hourigan, you had as good keep an eye upon him. Darby is one of the good ones.” “I don't even know his name yet,” replied Fergus, “but if we are to judge by appearances, he is somewhat of Darby's kidney, for a worse-looking young vagabond I have seldom laid my eyes upon. At all events I know Hourigan's story to be a lie, for as he came up the avenue I was in the shrubbery, looking for a cock I shot, which dropped among the hollies, and there was certainly nobody there but this strange fellow and Hourigan, both of whom chatted to each other for some minutes across the hedge; and, by the way, I now remember that they kept watching about them suspiciously, as if they did not wish to be seen speaking together. The fact, now that you have mentioned the case, is evident; I could not be deceived in this matter.”