“Bob, my boy,” said he, “you don't drink, and that is a bad sign. You have either a bad head of late, or a bad heart, which is worse. Hang you, sir, why don't you drink? I have seen you lay lots of my guests under the table when you were quite cool; but now, what are you at? They can't run away to-night. Helen doesn't know that the discovery has been made. And now, Bob, you dog, listen to me, I say--would you have had the manliness and courage to expose yourself for the sake of a pretty girl as he did?--that is--here's a bumper to Helen! Curse you, will nothing make you drink? No, faith, he hadn't seen Helen at the time; it was for a worthless old fellow like me that he exposed himself; but no matter, you may be right; perhaps it was a plot to get acquainted with her. Still, I'm not sure of that; but if it was, I'll make him smart.” After dinner the squire drank deeply--so deeply, indeed, that Whitecraft was obliged to call up some of the male servants to carry him to his chamber and put him to bed. In this task Lanigan assisted, and thanked his stars that he was incapacitated from watching the lovers, or taking any means to prevent their escape. As for Whitecraft, thought he, I will soon send him about his business. Now, this gentleman's suspicions were the more deeply excited, in consequence of Helen's refusal to meet him at either lunch or dinner, a refusal which she gave on the plea of indisposition. He had therefore made up his mind to watch the motions of _Cooleen Bawn_, and he would have included Reilly in his surveillance were it not that Lanigan informed him of what he termed the mysterious disappearance of the under-gardener. “What!” exclaimed Whitecraft, “is he gone?” “He has gone, Sir Robert, and he left his week's wages behind him, for he never came to the steward to ask it. And now, Sir Robert, to tell you the truth, I'm not sorry he's gone; he was a disagreeable old fellow, that nobody could make either head or tail of; but, Sir Robert, listen--wait, sir, till I shut the door--it will soon be getting dusk: you know you're not liked in the country, and now that we--I mean the Catholics--have the countenance of Government, I think that riding late won't be for your health. The night air, you know, isn't wholesome to some people. I am merely givin' you a hint, Sir Robert, bekaise you are a friend of my masther's, and I hope for your own sake you'll take it. The sooner you mount your horse the better; and if you be guided by me, you'll try and reach your own house before the darkness sets in. Who knows what Reilly may be plotting? You know he doesn't like a bone in your honor's skin; and the Reillys are cruel and desperate.” “But, Lanigan, are you aware of any plot or conspiracy that has been got up against my life?” “Not at all, your honor; but I put it to yourself, sir, whether you don't feel that I'm speaking the truth.”