his usual short way to Nutter, the arch enemy, who, to say
truth, looked confoundedly black and she heard the silver spectacles
say, ''Tis, you understand, my own thoughts _only_ I speak, Mr. Nutter.'

The fright and the shock of seeing Nutter so near her, made her
salutation a little awkward; and she had, besides, an instinctive
consciousness that they were talking about the terrible affair of
yesterday. Dangerfield, on meeting her, bid Nutter good-morning
suddenly, and turned about with Mrs. Sturk, who had to slacken her pace
a little, for the potent agent chose to walk rather slowly.

'A fine morning after all the rain, Madam. How well the hills look,' and
he pointed across the Liffey with his cane; 'and the view down the
river,' and he turned about, pointing towards Inchicore.

I believe he wanted to see how far Nutter was behind them. He was
walking in the opposite direction, looking down on the kerb-stones of
the footpath, and touching them with his cane, as if counting them as he
proceeded. Dangerfield nodded, and his spectacles in the morning sun
seemed to flash two sudden gleams of lightning after him.

'I've been giving Nutter a bit of my mind, Madam, about that procedure
of his. He's very angry with me, but a great deal more so with your
husband, who has my sympathies with him; and I think I'm safe in saying
he's likely soon to have an offer of employment under my Lord
Castlemallard, if it suits him.

And he walked on, and talked of other things in short sentences, and
parted with Mrs. Sturk with a grim brief kindness at the door, and so
walked with his wiry step away towards the Brass Castle, where his
breakfast awaited him, and he disappeared round the corner of Martin's
Row.

'And which way was he going when you met him and that--that _Nutter_?'
demanded Sturk, who was talking in high excitement, and not being able
to find an epithet worthy of Nutter, made it up by his emphasis and his
scowl. She told him.

'H'm! then, he can't have got my note yet!'

She looked at him in a way that plainly said, 'what note?' but Sturk
said no more, and he had trained her to govern her curiosity.

As Dangerfield passed Captain Cluffe's lodgings, he heard the gay tinkle
of a guitar, and an amorous duet, not altogether untunefully sung to
that accompaniment; and he beheld little Lieutenant Puddock's back, with
a broad scarlet and gold ribbon across it, supporting the instrument on
which he was industriously thrummi