e doesn't know it. I'd like some writing on
these papers,--Latin for preference."

Josiah Brooks thought steadily for a few moments, then he called out
and the melancholy rusty man came in. He took a few instructions and
went out again. After a long time he entered once more and placed on
the table a packet I would have sworn was my own. This the lawyer
handed to me without a word, and the rusty man held open the door for
me. So, with the bogus papers in my pocket, not to mention the genuine
gold, I took my leave of Josiah and the Temple.

As soon as I was outside I saw at once that there was no time to be
lost. If the Earl had guessed my intention, as was hinted, what would
he do? Whenever I wish to answer a question like that to myself, I
think what would I do if I were in the position of the other man. Now
what I would have done, was this, if I were the Earl of Westport. I
would send down to Brede all the ruffians at my disposal and garrison
the house with them; and if the Earl did this, I would be on the
outside, and he on the inside with advantage over me accordingly. Most
men fight better behind stone walls than out in the open; and,
besides, a few men can garrison a barracks that five hundred cannot
take by assault. However, as it turned out, I was crediting the Earl
with brains equal to my own, which in truth neither he nor any of his
followers had below their bonnets. He trusted to intercepting me on
the highway, just as if he hadn't already failed in that trick. But it
takes a score of failures to convince an Englishman that he is on the
wrong track altogether, while an Irishman has so many plans in his
head that there's never time to try one of them twice in succession.
But if I was wrong about the Earl, I was right about his daughter,
when I suspected that she gave the lawyer the information about the
Earl's knowledge of my plans, and I was also right when I credited the
dear girl with drawing on her own funds to give me the golden
guineas,--"and may each one of them," said I to myself, "prove a
golden blessing on her head."

At any rate, there was no time to be lost, so I made straight to
Father Donovan and asked him would he be ready to begin the journey to
Rye after an early breakfast with me at the "Pig and Turnip."

You never saw a man in your life so delighted at the prospect of
leaving London as was Father Donovan, and indeed I was glad to get
away from the place myself. The good father said the b