ir, that was robbed some time ago?"

"I am."

"Ah, sir, I see you are dressed in black; and I heard of the death of
the misthress, sir."

"Well, but what has that to do with what you have just now said--that
you would make it worth my while if I gave you alms?"

"I said so, sir; and I can, if you will be guided by me."

"Speak out; I don't understand you."

"Would you like to see the man that robbed you, sir, and would you know
him if you did see him?"

"Unquestionably I would know him. They say it was Reilly, but I have
seen Reilly since; and although the dress was the same which Reilly
usually wears, yet the faces were different."

"Is your honor going far?" asked Fergus.

"No, I am going over to that farm-house, Tom Brady's; two or three of
his family are ill of fever, and I wish to do something for him; I am
about to make him my land bailiff."

"What stay will you make there, your honor?"

"A very short one--not more than ten or fifteen minutes."

"Would it be inconvenient for your honor to remain there, or somewhere
about the house, for an hour, or may be a little longer?"

"For what purpose? You are a mysterious old fellow."

"Bekaise, if you'd wish to see the man that robbed you, I'll undhertake
to show him to you, face to face, within that time. Will your honor
promise this?"

The sheriff paused upon this proposal, coming as it did from such an
equivocal authority. What, thought he, if it should be a plot for my
life, in consequence of the fines which I have been forced to levy upon
the Catholic priests and bishops in my official capacity. God knows I
feel it to be a painful duty.

"What is your religion?" he asked, "and why should a gentleman in my
condition of life place any confidence upon the word of a common vagrant
like you, who must necessarily be imbued with all the prejudices of your
creed--for I suppose you are a Catholic?"

"I am, sir; but, for all that, in half an hour's time I'll be a rank
Protestant."

The sheriff smiled and asked, "How the devil's that?"

"You are dressed in black, sir, in murnin' for your wife. I have seen
you go into Tom Brady's to give the sick creatures the rites of their
Church. I give notice to Sir Robert Whitecraft that a priest is there;
and my word to you, he and his hounds will soon be upon you. The man
that robbed you will be among them--no, but the foremost of them; and if
you don't know him, I can't help it--that's all, your honor."

"Well,"