LITMIR.BIZ

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townsfolk, and making horrible grimaces, shrugs, and ogles. But the young gentleman was not in the habit of denying himself innocent indulgences, and shaking himself loose of Toole, he walked down the dark side of the street in peals of laughter, making, ever and anon, little breathless remarks to himself, which his colleague could not hear, but which seemed to have the effect of setting him off again into new hemi-demi-semiquavers and roars of laughter, and left the doctor to himself, to conduct the negociation with Loftus.

      ‘Well?’ said Devereux, by this time recovering breath, as the little doctor, looking very red and glum, strutted up to him along the shady pavement.

      ‘Well? well? — oh, ay, very well, to be sure. I’d like to know what the plague we’re to do now,’ grumbled Toole.

      ‘Your precious armour-bearer refuses to act then?’ asked Devereux.

      ‘To be sure he does. He sees you walking down the street, ready to die o’ laughing — at nothing, by Jove!’ swore Toole, in deep disgust; ‘and — and — och! hang it! it’s all a confounded pack o’ nonsense. Sir, if you could not keep grave for five minutes, you ought not to have come at all. But what need I care? It’s Nutter’s affair, not mine.’

      ‘And well for him we failed. Did you ever see such a fish? He’d have shot himself or Nutter, to a certainty. But there’s a chance yet: we forgot the Nightingale Club; they’re still in the Phoenix.’

      ‘Pooh, Sir! they’re all tailors and green-grocers,’ said Toole, in high dudgeon.

      ‘There are two or three good names among them, however,’ answered Devereux; and by this time they were on the threshold of the Phoenix.

      ‘Larry,’ he cried to the waiter, ‘the Nightingale Club is there, is it not?’ glancing at the great back parlour door.

      ‘Be the powers! Captain, you may say that,’ said Larry, with a wink, and a grin of exquisite glee.

      ‘See, Larry,’ said Toole, with importance, ‘we’re a little serious now; so just say if there’s any of the gentlemen there; you — you understand, now; quite steady? D’ye see me?’

      Larry winked — this time a grave wink — looked down at the floor, and up to the cornice, and —

      ‘Well,’ said he, ‘to be candid with you, jest at this minute — half-an-hour ago, you see, it was different — the only gentleman I’d take on myself to recommend to you as perfectly sober is Mr. Macan, of Petticoat-lane.’

      ‘Is he in business?’ asked Toole.

      ‘Does he keep a shop?’ said Devereux.

      ‘A shop! two shops; — a great man in the chandlery line,’ responded Larry.

      ‘H’m! not precisely the thing we want, though,’ says Toole.

      ‘There are some of them, surely, that don’t keep shops,’ said Devereux, a little impatiently.

      ‘Millions!’ said Larry.

      ‘Come, say their names.’

      ‘Only one of them came this evening, Mr. Doolan, of Stonnybatther — he’s a retired merchant.’

      ‘That will do,’ said Toole, under his breath, to Devereux. Devereux nodded.

      ‘Just, I say, tap him on the shoulder, and tell him that Dr. Toole, you know, of this town, with many compliments and excuses, begs one word with him,’ said the doctor.

      ‘Hoo! Docthur dear, he was the first of them down, and was carried out to his coach insensible jist when Mr. Crozier of Christ Church began, “Come Roger and listen;” he’s in his bed in Stonnybatther a good hour and a half ago.’

      ‘A retired merchant,’ says Devereux; ‘well, Toole, what do you advise now?’

      ‘By Jove, I think one of us must go into town. ’Twill never do to leave poor Nutter in the lurch; and between ourselves, that O’Flaherty’s a — a blood-thirsty idiot, by Jove — and ought to be put down.’

      ‘Let’s see Nutter — you or I must go — we’ll take one of these songster’s “noddies.”’

      A ‘noddy’ give me leave to remark, was the one-horse hack vehicle of Dublin and the country round, which has since given place to the jaunting car, which is, in its turn, half superseded by the cab.

      And Devereux, followed by Toole, entered the front parlour again. But without their help, the matter was arranging itself, and a second, of whom they knew nothing, was about to emerge.

      Chapter 9.

      How a Squire was Found for the Knight of the Rueful Countenance

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      When Dr. Toole grumbled at his disappointment, he was not at all aware how nearly his interview with Loftus had knocked the entire affair on the head. He had no idea how much that worthy person was horrified by his proposition; and Toole walked off in a huff, without bidding him good-night, and making a remark in which the words ‘old woman’ occurred pretty audibly. But Loftus remained under the glimpses of the moon in perturbation and sore perplexity. It was so late he scarcely dared disturb Dr. Walsingham or General Chattesworth. But there came the half-stifled cadence of a song — not bacchanalian, but sentimental — something about Daphne and a swain — struggling through the window-shutters next the green hall-door close by, and Dan instantly bethought himself of Father Roach. So knocking stoutly at the window, he caused the melody to subside and the shutter to open. When the priest, looking out, saw Dan Loftus in his deshabille, I believe he thought for a moment it was something from the neighbouring churchyard.

      However, his reverence came out and stood on the steps, enveloped in a hospital aroma of broiled bones, lemons, and alcohol, and shaking his visitor affectionately by the hand — for he bore no malice, and the Lenten ditty he quite forgave as being no worse in modern parlance than an unhappy ‘fluke’— was about to pull him into the parlour, where there was ensconced, he told him, ‘a noble friend of his.’ This was ‘Pat Mahony, from beyond Killarney, just arrived — a man of parts and conversation, and a lovely singer.’

      But Dan resisted, and told his tale in an earnest whisper in the hall. The priest made his mouth into a round queer little O, through which he sucked a long breath, elevating his brows, and rolling his eyes slowly about.

      ‘A jewel! And Nutter, of all the men on the face of the airth — though I often heerd he was a fine shot, and a sweet little fencer in his youth, an’ game, too — oh, be the powers! you can see that still — game to the back-bone — and — whisht a bit now — who’s the other?’

      ‘Lieutenant O’Flaherty.’

      (A low whistle from his reverence). ‘That’s a boy that comes from a fighting county — Galway. I wish you saw them at an election time. Why, there’s no end of divarsion — the divarsion of stopping them, of course, I mean (observing a sudden alteration in Loftus’s countenance). An’ you, av coorse, want to stop it? And so, av coorse, do I, my dear. Well, then, wait a bit, now — we must have our eyes open. Don’t be in a hurry — let us be harrumless as sarpints, but wise as doves. Now, ’tis a fine thing, no doubt, to put an end to a jewel by active intherfarence, though I have known cases, my dear child, where suppressing a simple jewel has been the cause of half a dozen breaking out afterwards in the same neighbourhood, and on the very same quarrel, d’ye mind — though, of coorse, that’s no reason here or there, my dear boy! But take it that a jewel is breaking down and coming to the ground of itself (here a hugely cunning wink), in an aisy, natural, accommodating way, the only effect of intherfarence is to bolster it up, d’ye see, so just considher how things are, my dear. Lave it all to me, and mind my words, it can’t take place without a second. The officers have refused, so has Toole, you won’t undertake

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