r the
village tree, in quest of carriage lights.

'A lawless brute like that may be before his time as well as after.' So
he walked briskly forward, and up Sturk's door-steps, and knocked.

'The Dublin doctor hasn't come, eh?'--he asked.

'No, Sir, he isn't come yet--'twas nine o'clock, the mistress told me.'

'Very good. Tell Mrs. Sturk, pray, that I, Mr. Dangerfield, you know,
will call, as I promised, at nine o'clock precisely.'

And he turned again and walked briskly over the bridge, and away along
the Inchicore road overhanging the river. All was silent there. Not a
step but his own was stirring, and the road in places so overhung with
old trees that it was difficult to see a yard before one.

He slackened his pace, and listened, like a man who keeps an
assignation, and listened again, and laughed under his breath; and sure
enough, before long, the clink of a footstep was heard approaching
swiftly from the Dublin direction.

Mr. Dangerfield drew aside under the deep shadow of a high hawthorn
hedge, overhung by trees; and watching intently, he saw a tall, lank
figure, with a peculiar gait and stoop of its own, glide stealthily by.
He smiled after it in the dark.

The tall figure was that of our old friend, Zekiel Irons, the clerk. A
sable form, as beseemed his ecclesiastical calling--and now a white
figure was gliding without noise swiftly after him.

Suddenly, as he reached an open part of the road, a thin hand was laid
on his shoulder, and, with a start, and a 'hollo,' he sprung round.

'Hey! why, you're as frightened as if you had seen Charles--Charles
_Nutter_. Hey?--don't be uneasy. I heard from the parson yesterday
morning you were to be with him to-night before nine o'clock, about that
money you left in his hands, and I've chanced to meet you; and this I
want you to understand, Charles Nutter is in gaol, and we must not let
him get out--do you see? That business settled, we're at rest. So, Mr.
Irons, you must not show the white feather. Be bold--speak out what you
know--now's the time to strike. I'll put your evidence, as you reported
it to me, into shape, and you come to me to-morrow morning at eight
o'clock; and mind you, I'll reward you this time, and better than ever
you've fared before. Go on. Or stay--I'll go before.'

And Mr. Dangerfield laughed one of his chilly laughs--and, with a nod
to Irons, repeated--'eight o'clock'--and so walked on a little bit.

The clerk had not said a word. A pe