rom
one of the prettiest hands I ever saw. Next moment the coach was
rattling down the street; and the gentleman having accompanied it a
short distance, kissed his hand and wheeled up a side street and
disappeared.

Unless I was greatly deceived, that gentleman was Captain Lestrange.

"Who are the travellers?" said I to the man who had shaken his fist.

He was apparently a countryman, dressed in an old frieze coat, with a
slouching hat.

He ground his teeth as he turned on me.

"The greatest villain on earth," said he. "I know him."

"I suppose so," said I, "or you would hardly excite yourself about him."

"Excite, is it? Man, dear, if there is a Judas on this earth, that's
him! Excite? you'd be excited too."

The man talked like one tipsy, but I did not think it was with drink.

"What has he done to you?" said I.

"Done? Isn't that the boy who's lured us all on, and then comes to
Dublin to denounce us? Man alive, did you never hear of Maurice Gorman
in your life?"

It was as much as I could do to stand steady under this shock.

"I was never in Dublin before," said I; "how should I? Is he an
Englishman?"

"Englishman? he's worse. He's an Irish traitor, I tell you, and feeds
on the blood of his people. He was the toad that made fools of us all,
and wormed himself into our secrets, and then turned and stabbed us in
the back. But we're not dead yet. We'll be even with him."

"Where has he gone now?" said I.

"Away home with his girl, who's as bad as himself. Sure, you saw her
coquetting with the young dandy just now. He's in the very middle of
the nest of vipers that are plotting to grind the life out of Ireland.
Maybe," said he, stopping suddenly and looking hard at me, "you're one
of that same nest yourself?"

"God forbid!" said I; "I love Ireland."

"That's good hearing. You're one of us?"

"Of the friends of my country, yes."

"A sworn friend?"

"I was sworn, yes," said I, determined at all cost to hear more of the
business.

"Come this afternoon to the printer's house in Marquis Street; you'll
hear more of Gorman then, maybe. _Pikes and hemp_ is the word. No
questions will be asked--not if you are Ireland's friend."

"I'll be there," said I; "and God save Ireland!"

"Amen!" said he, and we parted.

It was, as I learned presently, the babbling of foolish talkers like
this poor fellow that wrecked the Irish conspiracy.

As for me, I confess I felt misgivings. I was a ser