of the way. Oh, we'll have a grand _berrin'_. And, by St. Patrick! I
must be looking after it."

"Stay a minute," said Jack; "let's have a cool bottle first. They are
all taking care of themselves below, and Peter Bradley has not made his
appearance, so you need be in no hurry. I'll go with you presently.
Shall I ring for the claret?"

"By all means," replied Titus.

Jack accordingly arose; and a butler answering the summons, a
long-necked bottle was soon placed before them.

"You heard of the affray last night, I presume?" said Jack, renewing the
conversation.

"With the poachers? To be sure I did. Wasn't I called in to examine Hugh
Badger's wounds the first thing this morning; and a deep cut there was,
just over the eye, besides other bruises."

"Is the wound dangerous?" inquired Palmer.

"Not exactly mortal, if you mean that," replied the Irishman;
"dangerous, certainly."

"Humph!" exclaimed Jack; "they'd a pretty hardish bout of it, I
understand. Anything been heard of the body?"

"What body?" inquired Small, who was half-dozing.

"The body of the drowned poacher," replied Jack; "they were off to
search for it this morning."

"Found it--not they!" exclaimed Titus. "Ha, ha!--I can't help laughing,
for the life and _sowl_ of me; a capital trick he played
'em,--capital--ha, ha! What do you think the fellow did? Ha, ha!--after
leading 'em the devil's dance, all around the park, killing a hound as
savage as a wolf, and breaking Hugh Badger's head, which is as hard and
thick as a butcher's block, what does the fellow do but dive into a
pool, with a great rock hanging over it, and make his way to the other
side, through a subterranean cavern, which nobody knew anything about,
till they came to drag it, thinking him snugly drowned all the
while--ha, ha!"

"Ha, ha, ha!" chorused Jack; "bravo! he's a lad of the right sort--ha,
ha!"

"He! who?" inquired the attorney.

"Why, the poacher, to be sure," replied Jack; "who else were we talking
about?"

"Beg pardon," returned Coates; "I thought you might have heard some
intelligence. We've got an eye upon him. We know who it was."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Jack; "and who was it?"

"A fellow known by the name of Luke Bradley."

"Zounds!" cried Titus, "you don't say it was he? Murder in Irish! that
bates everything; why, he was Sir Piers's----"

"Natural son," replied the attorney; "he has not been heard of for some
time--shockingly incorrigible rascal--impossibl