uld take the devil
himself if there was a writ out against him. And, to be sure, it was a
clever trick they played old Bob.'

Here the good priest took such a fit of laughing that he was obliged to
wipe his eyes.

'May I never,' said he, 'if it wasn't a good turn they played him, after
what he did himself!'

'Come, father, let's hear it.'

'This was the way of it. Maybe you never remarked--of course you didn't,
for you were only up there a couple of times--that opposite Bob's
lodgings there was a mighty sweet-looking crayture, a widow-woman; she
was dressed in very discreet black, and had a sorrowful look about her
that somehow or other, I think, made her even more interesting.

'"I'd like to know that widow," said Bob; "for now that the fellows have
a warrant against me, I could spend my days so pleasantly over there,
comforting and consoling her."

'"Whisht," said I, "don't you see that she is in grief?"

'"Not so much in grief," said he, "but she lets down two beautiful
braids of her brown hair under her widow's cap; and whenever you see
that, Father Tom, take my word for it, the game's not up."

[Illustration: 373]

'I believe there was some reason in what he said, for the last time I
went up to see him he had the window open, and he was playing "Planxty
Kelly" with all his might on an old fiddle; and the widow would come now
and then to the window to draw the little muslin curtain, or she would
open it to give a halfpenny to the beggars, or she would hold out her
hand to see if it was raining--and a beautiful lily-white hand it was;
but all the time, you see, it was only exchanging looks they were. Bob
was a little ashamed when he saw me in the room, but he soon recovered.

'"A very charming woman that Mrs. Moriarty is," said he, closing
the window. "It 's a cruel pity that her fortune is all in the Grand
Canal--I mean Canal debentures. But indeed it comes pretty much to the
same thing."

'And so he went on raving about the widow; for by this time he knew all
about her. Her maiden name was Cassidy, and her father a distiller; and,
in fact, Bob was quite delighted with his beautiful neighbour. At last
I bid him good-bye, promising to call for him at eight o'clock to come
over here to you; for you see there was a backdoor to the house that
led into a small alley, by which Mahon used to make his escape in the
evening. He was sitting, it seems, at his window, looking out for the
widow, who for some cause