," replied Tom. "My poor father was, as too many
other Irish gentlemen have been, what is termed a hard goer (the honest
man was a horse jockey like myself, thought Tom)--and indeed ran through
a great deal of property during the latter part of his life (when he was
huntsman to Lord Rattlecap, he went through many an estate)."

"Well, but your brother?"

"Deeply indebted, my lord, but I have no brother living. Poor Edward did
get a foreign appointment many years ago (he was transported for horse
stealing), by the influence of one of the most eminent of our judges,
who strongly advised him to accept it, and returned his name to
government as a worthy and suitable candidate. He died there, my lord,
in the discharge of his appointed duties. Poor Ned, however, was never
fond of public business under government, and, indeed, accepted the
appointment in question with great reluctance."

"The reason why I made these inquiries about the name of Norton," said
Lord Cullamore, "is this. There was, several years ago, a respectable
female of the name, who held a confidential situation in my family; I
have long lost sight of her, however, and would be glad to know whether
she is living or dead."

("My sister-in-law," thought Tom.) "I fear," he replied, "I can render
you no information on that point, my lord; the last female branch of our
part of the family was my grandmother, who died about three years ago."

At this moment a servant entered the apartment, bearing in his hand a
letter, for which office he had received a bribe of half-a-crown. "I beg
pardon, my lord, but there's a woman at the hall-door, who wishes this
letter to be handed to that gentleman; but I fear there's some mistake,"
he added, "it is directed to Barney Bryan. She insists he is here, and
that she saw him come into the house."

"Barney Bryan," said Tom, with great coolness; "show me the letter,
for I think I know something about it. Yes, I am right. It is an insane
woman, my lord, wife to a jockey of mine, who broke his neck riding my
celebrated horse, Black and all Black, on the Curragh. The poor creature
cannot believe that her husband is dead, and thinks that I enjoy that
agreeable privilege. The circumstance, indeed, was a melancholy one; but
I have supported her ever since."

Morty O'Flaherty, who had transferred his charge to other hands, fearing
that Mister Norton might get into trouble, now came to the rescue.

"Pray," said Tom, quick as lightnin