nd
they saw him in his red night-cap at his parlour window. After some
minutes' running backwards and forwards of a boy in the passage, and
two or three peeps taken over the blinds by the old gentleman, they were
admitted.

The boy could not master their names; so they were obliged reciprocally
to announce themselves--'Count O'Halloran and Lord Colambre.' The names
seemed to make no impression on the old gentleman; but he deliberately
looked at the count and his lordship, as if studying WHAT rather
than WHO they were. In spite of the red night-cap, and a flowered
dressing-gown, Mr. Reynolds looked like a gentleman, an odd
gentleman--but still a gentleman.

As Count O'Halloran came into the room, and as his large dog attempted
to follow, the count's voice expressed: 'Say, shall I let him in, or
shut the door?'

'Oh, let him in, by all means, sir, if you please! I am fond of dogs;
and a finer one I never saw; pray, gentlemen, be seated,' said he--a
portion of the complacency inspired by the sight of the dog, diffusing
itself over his manner towards the master of so fine an animal, and
even extending to the master's companion, though in an inferior degree.
Whilst Mr. Reynolds stroked the dog, the count told him that 'the dog
was of a curious breed, now almost extinct--the Irish greyhound, of
which only one nobleman in Ireland, it is said, has now a few of the
species remaining in his possession--Now, lie down, Hannibal,' said the
count. 'Mr. Reynolds, we have taken the liberty, though strangers, of
waiting upon you--'

'I beg your pardon, sir,' interrupted Mr. Reynolds; 'but did I
understand you rightly, that a few of the same species are still to
be had from one nobleman in Ireland? pray, what is his name?' said he,
taking out his pencil.

The count wrote the name for him, but observed, that 'he had asserted
only that a few of these dogs remained in the possession of that
nobleman; he could not answer for it that they were TO BE HAD.'

'Oh, I have ways and means,' said old Reynolds; and, rapping his
snuff-box, and talking, as it was his custom, loud to himself, 'Lady
Dashfort knows all those Irish lords; she shall get one for me--ay! ay!'

Count O'Halloran replied, as if the words had been addressed to him--

'Lady Dashfort is in England.'

'I know it, sir; she is in London,' said Mr. Reynolds, hastily. 'What do
you know of her?'

'I know, sir, that she is not likely to return to Ireland, and that
I am; and