LITMIR.BIZ

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a gentleman!" – 'twas ever my cousin's habit to make such amiable speeches as these, and thereby to encounter the ill will of those whom he addressed. "But, however, I care not whom I am seen in company with. I'll go along with you." Then, suddenly, his eye lighted on me, whereon he exclaimed, "What, my gentleman! Why, 'twas you who were in Macarthy's earlier in the evening. I suppose you left ere I awoke from my doze. Are you, too, stranded for a draught and obliged to be indebted to this good-humph! – person for procuring you one?"

      "Even so," I answered, thinking it best to fall in with his supposition, whereon Oliver said:

      "Come on then, young sirs, or all the taverns will be closed. Yet, stay, will you have a sup ere we set forth. I have the wherewithal in my pocket," and he thrust his hand in his coat and pulled out a great flask he had provided to keep out the morning air from our lungs when we should be on the river.

      "First come, first served," he said, winking at me, which action being under an oil lamp I could well perceive, and he handed me the flask which I put to my mouth and pretended to drink from, though not a drop did I let pass my lips. "And you, sir," he went on, turning to my cousin, "will you try a draught? 'Tis of the right kind-and-hush! a word-the gauger has never taken duty on it."

      "So much the better. Hand over," said Roderick, "the night air is raw. Ah!" He placed the bottle to his lips as he uttered this grunt of satisfaction and took a long deep draught, and then returned the flask enviously to Oliver and bade him lead to the tavern he knew of, where he promised he would treat us both to a bowl of punch ere the night was done.

      But Oliver (as he told me afterwards) not thinking it advisable to be seen in more public houses than necessary-considering the business we were on-purposely led the way to one near the river of which he knew, by as circuitous a route as possible, so that, ere we had gone half a mile, Roderick called a halt for another refresher. All the way we had come he had been maundering about the treatment he had received at the tavern, about the desertion of him by the actresses, and about his friend's treachery, mixed up with boastings of his father's standing, his speech being very thick and his gait unsteady. So that the same hope was in Oliver's mind as in mine, namely that another attack upon the bottle might do his business for him. Yet, when he had taken it, he was not quite finished-though nearly so, since he would once or twice have fallen had we not held him up between us as we went along, – and we were fain at last to suggest a third pull at the flask. And shortly after he had taken that he could go no farther but, after hiccoughing out some unintelligible words, sank helpless on the stones.

      "Caught in their own toils!" exclaimed Oliver, as he bent over him, "caught in their own toils! Gerald, already the spell begins to work that shall undo your uncle. Yet, if this were not the son of a villain, and a villain himself in the future if he be not one now, as by his rejoicing over the plot in the tavern he seems to be, I would never have taken part in such a snare as this. But," he continued, "they would have sent you, poor lad, to where he is going, and he would have gloated over it. Let us, therefore, harden our hearts and continue what we have begun."

      He stooped over Roderick as he spoke and gazed at him as he lay there insensible, and said, "We must remove from him his lace and ruffles; they are too fine. His hat with its lacings is easily disposed of," saying which he tossed it on a heap of refuse such as was then to be found in every street in Dublin. "His clothes," he continued, "are, however, none too sumptuous, and they are soiled with mud where he has fallen. His sword he must not have however," with which words he unloosed it as well as the sash and placed the former against a doorway and the latter in his pocket. "Now," he said, "let us carry him to the stairs," and he forthwith hoisted him on his back as easily as he had hundreds of times hoisted a sheep in a similar manner.

      We passed scarcely any persons on our road, and, when we did, they seemed to think little enough of such a sight as a man who looked like a porter carrying another who was overcome by drink on his back, while a third, probably, as they supposed, the drunken man's friend, walked by their side. Such sights were common enough in the days when I was young and George II. had just ascended the throne, and not only in Dublin but in England and all over his dominions. Nay, in those days things were even worse than this; men went to taverns to pass their evenings, leaving word with others, to whom they paid a regular wage, to come and fetch them at a certain hour, by which time they would be drunk. Noblemen's servants came for them on the same errand to their wine clubs and the ordinaries, and even many divines thought it no sin to be seen reeling home tipsy through the streets at night, or being led off by their children who had sought them out at their houses of use.

      So, I say, we passed unheeded by those few we encountered, and in this manner we came to Essex Stairs, where Oliver deposited his burden upon the shingle under a dry arch and went to fetch the boat.

      "I know not," he said, "whether 'tis best to put him in the boat at once and so to row about the river, or whether to let him lie here until O'Rourke's friend comes to see that the scheme is accomplished. He is to wear a red cockade by which we shall know him."

      "I imagine 'twould be best to take to the boat," I said. "Any one may come down to the river shore at any moment, but the river is as still as death. And we could lie under yon vessel that is listed over by the tide, and so see those on shore without being seen."

      "Thou art right, Gerald; thou art right. No thing could be better. Wilt lend a hand to carry him in? And then we will shove off."

      We bent over the prostrate form enveloped now in Oliver's frieze coat, when, as we did so, we heard behind us a voice-a voice that terrified me so that I felt as though paralysed, or as if the marrow were freezing in my bones-a voice that said, "Softly, softly! What! Would'st put off without the other guineas and the acquittance?" And, starting to our feet, we saw behind us O'Rourke regarding us with a dreadful smile.

      "So, Mr. Quin," he went on, "thou would'st have tricked me, eh! and hast found some other youth to send to the plantations in place of this young sprig here-who, in spite of his gay apparel and his smart wig, I recognise as the brat who was not long ago in my custody, and shall be again. A pretty trick in faith! a pretty trick to try on me who, in my time, have served the Pope, the Devil, and the Pretender, and hoodwinked the whole joyous three. Why, Quin," he went on banteringly, "you are not so clever as I took you for."

      "I may outwit you yet, O'Rourke," replied Oliver, "in spite of your cleverness. But," he continued, in a peculiar voice that I could not understand, and, indeed, I felt now so miserable and wretched at the failure of our undertaking that I paid but little heed to what they said, "I suppose you, too, were tricking me. If we had got down the river we should have found no Dove there to take our cargo on board."

      "Nay, nay, Quin," continued the other, "for what then think you I have paid you the guineas, which now you must return or I will blow your brains out? The Dove is there fast enough, though she is anchor a-peak now and ready to sail. And in my pocket, too, are the remaining pieces-for I am an honest man, Quin, and keep my word-and with a line from my lord absolving thee, which now thou must forego." Here he burst into another laugh such as he had once or twice given before, and went on, "Yet I cannot but smile at your simplicity. What! pay thee twenty-five guineas for nothing, and entrust an honest gentleman with a red cockade in his hat-ha, ha! – to look after my affairs when I can look after them myself. 'Tis not thus that I have prospered and made my way. Now, Quin, give back my guineas to me."

      "Nay," said Oliver, "that will never be. We have the guineas and we mean to keep them."

      "I am armed," said O'Rourke, "and I will have them; yet, ere I take them from you or shoot you like a dog, let's see what creature, what scaramouch or scarecrow thou hast picked out of the gutter to send to Virginia in place of this boy, Gerald," and, stooping down, he bent on his knee and flung Oliver's cloak off my cousin's form till it lay there as it had fallen, and with a ray from the oil lamp of the archway glistening on his face.

      "What!" he exclaimed, "what! nay, 'tis impossible-yet, yet, oh! oh! Quin, thou damnable, thou double-dyed scoundrel; why-why-thou wretch, thou execrable wretch, had this happened, had this wicked plot been put in practice, my lord would have slain me. Oh! thou villain. I should have been ruined for ever."

      "As so you shall be yet," said Oliver springing at him as he spoke, "as you shall be if I myself do not slay you first."

      In

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