your
half-and-half Liberals that, to my thinking, are worse than the rebels
themselves! What is this here in pencil on the back of the card?' Mr. K.
begs to apologise for the hour of his intrusion, and earnestly entreats a
few minutes from Mr. Flood. 'Show him in, Philip, show him in; and bring
some fresh glasses.'

Kearney made his excuses with a tact and politeness which spoke of a time
when he mixed freely with the world, and old Flood was so astonished by the
ease and good-breeding of his visitor that his own manner became at once
courteous and urbane.

'Make no apologies about the hour, Mr. Kearney,' said he. 'An old
bachelor's house is never very tight in discipline. Allow me to introduce
Mr. Adams, Mr. Kearney, the best preacher in Ireland, and as good a judge
of port wine as of theology.'

The responsive grunt of the parson was drowned in the pleasant laugh of the
others, as Kearney sat down and filled his glass. In a very few words he
related the reason of his visit to the town, and asked Mr. Flood to tell
him what he knew of the late misadventure.

'Sworn information, drawn up by that worthy man, Pat McEvoy, the greatest
rascal in Europe, and I hope I don't hurt you by saying it, Mr. Kearney.
Sworn information of a burglarious entry, and an aggravated assault on the
premises and person of one Peter Gill, another local blessing--bad luck
to him. The aforesaid--if I spoke of hi before--Gorman O'Shea, having,
_suadente diabolo_, smashed down doors and windows, palisadings
and palings, and broke open cabinets, chests, cupboards, and other
contrivances. In a word, he went into another man's house, and when asked
what he did there, he threw the proprietor out of the window. There's the
whole of it.'

'Where was the house?'

'O'Shea's Barn.'

'But surely O'Shea's Barn, being the residence and property of his aunt,
there was no impropriety in his going there?'

'The informant states that the place was in the tenancy of this said Gill,
one of your own people, Mr. Kearney. I wish you luck of him.'

'I disown him, root and branch; he is a disgrace to any side. And where is
Miss Betty O'Shea?'

'In a convent or a monastery, they say. She has turned abbess or monk; but,
upon my conscience, from the little I've seen of her, if a strong will and
a plucky heart be the qualifications, she might be the Pope!'

'And are the young man's injuries serious? Is he badly hurt? for they would
not let me see him at the gao