While I stood gazing at the uncouth and ragged figure before me, she pushed rudely past, and shutting the door behind her, asked, in a low whisper, “Are ye alone?”—and then, without waiting for a reply, threw back the tattered bonnet that covered her head, and removing a wig of long black hair, stared steadfastly at me.

“Do you know me, now?” said the hag, in a voice of almost menacing eagerness.

“What!” cried I, in amazement; “it surely cannot be—Darby, is this really you?”

“Ye may well say it,” replied he, bitterly.—“Ye had time enough to forget me since we met last; and 'tis thinking twice your grand friends the officers would be, before they 'd put their necks where mine is now to see you. Read that,”—as he spoke, he threw a ragged and torn piece of printed paper on the table,—“read that, and you 'll see there 's five hundred pounds of blood money to the man that takes me. Ay, and here I stand this minit in the King's barrack, and walked fifty-four miles this blessed day just to see you and speak to you once more. Well, well!” He turned away his head while he said this, and wiping a starting tear from his red eyeball, he added, “Master Tom, 'tis myself would never b'lieve ye done it.”

“Did what?” said I, eagerly. “What have I ever done that you should charge me thus?”

But Darby heard me not; his eyes were fixed on vacancy, and his lips moved rapidly as though he were speaking to himself.

“Ay,” said he, half aloud, “true enough; 'tis the gentlemen that betrayed us always,—never came good of the cause where they took a part. But you,”—here he turned full round, and grasping my arm, spoke directly to me, “you that I loved better than my own kith and kin, that I thought would one day be a pride and glory to us all; you that I brought over myself to the cause—”

“And when have I deserted,—when have I betrayed it?”

“When did you desert it?” repeated he, in a tone of mocking irony. “Tell me the day and hour ye came here, tell me the first time ye sat down among the red butchers of King George, and I 'll answer ye that. Is it here you ought to be? Is this the home for him that has a heart for Ireland? I never said you betrayed us. Others said it; but I stood to it, ye never did that. But what does it signify? 'Tis no wonder ye left us; we were poor and humble people; we had nothing at heart but the good cause—”

“Stop!” cried I, maddened by this taunt. “What could I have done? where was my place?”

“Don't ask me; if your own heart doesn't teach thee, how can I? But it's over now; the day is gone, and I must take to the road again. My heart is lighter since I seen you; and it will be lighter again when I give you this wamin',—God knows if you 'll mind it. You think yourself safe now since you joined the sodgers; you think they trust you, and that Barton's eye is n't on ye still. There is n't a word you say is n't noted down,—not a man you spake to isn't watched. You don't know it; but I know it. There 's more go to the gallows in Ireland over their wine, than with the pike in their hands. Take care of your friends, I say.”

“You wrong them. Darby; and you wrong me. Never have I heard from one here a single word that could offend the proudest heart among us.”

“Why would they? what need of it? Ar'n't we down, down? ar'n't we hunted like wild beasts? is the roof left to shelter us? dare we walk the roads? dare we say 'God save ye!' when we meet, and not be tried for pass words? It 's no wonder they pity us; the hardest heart must melt sometimes.”

“As to myself,” said I,—for there was no use in attempting to reason with him further,—“my every wish is with the cause as warmly as on the day we parted. But I look to France—”

“Ay, and why not? I remember the time your eye flashed and your cheek grew another color when you spoke of that.”

“Yes, Darby,” said I, after a pause; “and I had not been here now, but that the only means I possessed of forwarding myself in the French service are unfortunately lost to me.”

“And what was that?” interrupted he, eagerly.

“Some letters which the poor Captain de Meudon gave me,” said I, endeavoring to seem as much at ease as I could.

Darby stooped down as I spoke, and ripping open the lining of his cloak, produced a small parcel fastened with a cord, saying, “Are these what you mean?”

I opened it with a trembling hand, and to my inexpressible delight, discovered Charles's letter to the head of the Ecole Polytechnique, together with a letter of credit and two cheques on his banker. The note to his sister was not, however, among them.

“How came you by these papers, Darby?” inquired I, eagerly.

“I found them on the road Barton travelled, the same evening you made your escape from the yeomanry; you remember that? They were soon missed, and an orderly was sent back to search for them. Since that, I 've kept them by me; and it was only yesterday that I thought of bringing them to you, thinking you might know something about them.”

“There 's a mark on this one,” said I, still gazing on the paper in my hand; “it looks like blood.”

“If it is, it 's mine, then,” said Darby, doggedly. And after a pause, he continued: “The soldier galloped up the very minute I was stooping for the papers. He called out to me to give them up; but I pretended not to hear, and took a long look round to see what way I could escape where his horse could n't follow me. But he saw what I was at; and the same instant his sabre was in my shoulder, and the blood running hot down my arm. I fell on my knees; but if I did, I took this from my breast” (here he drew forth a long-barrelled rusty pistol), “and shot him through the neck.”

“Was he killed?” said I, in horror at the coolness of the recital.

“Sorrow one o' me knows. He fell on his horse's mane, and I saw the beast gallop with him up the road with his arms hanging at each side of the neck. And then I heard a crash, and I saw that he was down, and the horse was dragging him by the stirrup; but the dust soon hid him from my sight. And indeed I was growing weak too; so I crept into the bushes until it was dark, and then got down to Glencree.”

The easy indifference with which he spoke, the tone of coolness in which he narrated this circumstance, thrilled through me far more painfully than the most passionate description; and I stood gazing on him with a feeling of dread that unhappily my features but too plainly indicated. He seemed to know what was passing in my mind; and as if stung by what he deemed my ingratitude for the service he had rendered me, his face grew darkly red, the swollen veins stood out thick and knotted in his forehead, his livid lips quivered, and he said in a thick, guttural voice,—

“Maybe ye think I murdered him?” And then, as I made no answer, he resumed in a different tone: “And faix, ye war n't long larnin' their lessons. But hear me now: there never was a traitor to the cause had a happy life or an easy death; there never was one betrayed us but we were revenged on him or his. I don't think ye 're come to that yet; for if I did, by the mortial—”

As he pronounced the last word, in a tone of the fiercest menace, the sound of many voices talking without, and the noise of a key turning in the lock, broke in upon our colloquy; and Darby had scarcely time to resume his disguise when Bubbleton entered, followed by three of his brother officers, all speaking together, and in accents that evidently betokened their having drunk somewhat freely.

“I tell you, again and again, the diamond wins it But here we are,” cried Bubbleton; “and now for a pack of cards, and let 's decide the thing at once.”

“You said you 'd bet fifty, I think?” drawled out Crofts, who was unquestionably the most sober of the party. “But what have we here?” At this instant his eye fell upon Darby, who had quietly ensconced himself behind the door, and hoped to escape unseen. “Eh, what's this, I say?”

“What!” cried Bubbleton; “what do I see? A nymph with bright and flowing hair; a hag like Hecuba, by Jove! Tom Burke, my man, how comes the damsel here?”

“'Tis Kitty, ould Kitty Cole, your honor—The young gentleman was buying a ballad from me, the Heavens prosper him!” said Darby.

“Nothing treasonous, I hope; no disloyal effusion, Tom; no scandal about Queen Elizabeth, my boy,—eh?”

“Come, old lady,” said Cradock, “let's have the latest novelty of the Liberty.”

“Yes,” said Bubbleton; “strike the harp in praise of—Confound the word!”

“Hang the old crone!” broke in Hilliard. “Here are the cards. The game stands thus: a spade is led,—you 've got none; hearts are trumps.”

“No, you mistake; the diamond's the trump,” said Cradock.

“I cry halt,” said Crofts, holding up both his hands; “the first thing is, what's the bet?”

“Anything you like,” cried Bubbleton; “fifty,—a hundred,—five hundred.”

“Be it then five hundred. I take you,” said Crofts, coolly, taking a memorandum book from his pocket.

“No, no,” interposed Hilliard; “Bubbleton, you sha'n't do any such thing. Five,—ten,—twenty, if you wish; but I 'll not stand by at such a wager.”

“Well, then, if twenty be as much as you have got permission to bet,” replied Crofts, insolently, “there's my stake.” So saying, he threw a note on the table, and looked over at Bubbleton, as if awaiting his doing the same.

I saw my poor friend's embarrassment, and without stirring from my place, slipped a note into his hand in silence. A squeeze of his fingers replied to me, and the same instant he threw the crumpled piece of paper down, and cried out, “Now for it; decide the point.”

Crofts at once drew his chair to the table, and began with the utmost coolness to arrange the cards; while the others, deeply interested in the point at issue, looked on without speaking. I thought this a good opportunity for Darby to effect his escape, and raising my hand noiselessly, I pointed to the door. Darby, who had been only waiting for the fortunate moment, stole quietly towards it; but while his hand was on the lock, Crofts lifted his eyes towards me, and then throwing them half round, intimated at once that he observed the manoeuvre. The blood suffused my face and temples, and though I saw the door close behind the piper, I could not recover from my embarrassment, or the fear that pressed on me lest Crofts should have penetrated the secret of Darby's disguise, and augured from the fact something to my discredit.

“The game is now arranged,” said he. “The spade being led here, the second player follows suit; the third, having none, trumps the card, and is overtrumped by the last in play. The trick is lost, therefore, and with it the game.”

“No, no,” interrupted Bubbleton, “you mistake altogether. The diamond,—no, the heart; I mean the—the—What the deuce is it? I say, Cradock, I had it all correct a minute ago; how is it, old fellow?”

“Why, you 've lost, that's all,” said the other, as he looked intently on the table, and seemed to consider the point.

“Yes, Bubbleton, there's no doubt about it; you've lost. We forgot all about the last player,” said Hilliard.

A violent knocking at the outer door drowned the voices of all within, while a gruff voice shouted out, “Captain Bubbleton, the grand round is coming up Parliament Street.”

Bubbleton snatched up his sword, and dashing through the room, was followed by the others in a roar of laughter, Crofts alone remaining behind, proceeded leisurely to open the folded piece of bank paper that lay before him, while I stood opposite unable to take my eyes from him. Slowly unfolding the note, he flattened it with his hand, and then proceeded to read aloud,—

“Payez au porteur la somme de deux mille livres—,'

“I beg pardon,” interrupted I. “There's a mistake there; that belongs to me.”

“I thought as much,” replied Crofts, with a very peculiar smile; “I scarcely supposed my friend Bubbleton had gone so far.”

“There's the sum, sir,” said I, endeavoring to control my temper, and only eager to regain possession of what would at once have compromised me, if discovered. “This is what Captain Bubbleton lost; twenty pounds, if I mistake not?”

“I must entreat your pardon, sir,” said Crofts, folding up the French billet de hanque, “My wager was not with you, nor can I permit you to pay it. This is at present my property, and remains so until Captain Bubbleton demands it from me.”

I was struck dumb by the manner in which these words were spoken. It was clear to me, that not only he suspected the disguise of the ballad-singer, but that by the discovery of the French note he connected his presence with its being in my possession. Rousing myself for the effort, I said,—

“You force me, sir, to speak of what nothing short of the circumstance could have induced me to allude to. It was I gave Captain Bubbleton that note. I gave it in mistake for this one.”

“I guessed as much, sir,” was the cool answer of Crofts, as he placed the note in his pocket-book and clasped it. “But I cannot permit your candid explanation to alter the determination I have already come to,—even had I not the stronger motive which as an officer in his Majesty's pay I possess,—to inform the Government, on such infallible evidence, how deeply interested our French neighbors are in our welfare when they supply us with a commodity which report says is scarce enough among themselves.”

“Do not suppose, sir, that your threat—for as such I understand it—has any terror for me. There is, it's true, another whose safety might be compromised by any step you might take in this affair; but when I tell you that it is one who never did, never could have injured you, and, moreover, that nothing treasonous or disloyal lies beneath your discovery—”

“You are really taking a vast deal of trouble, Mr. Burke,” said he, stopping me with a cold smile, “which I am forced to say is unnecessary. Your explanation of how this billet de banque came into your possession may be required elsewhere, and will, I am certain, meet with every respect and attention. As for me, an humble captain, with only one principle to sustain me, one clue to guide me, in what I am disposed to consider a question of some importance, I shall certainly ask advice of others better able to direct me.”

“You refuse, then, sir, to restore me what I have assured you is mine?”

“And what I have no doubt whatever you are correct in calling so,” added he, contemptuously.

“And you persist in the refusal?” said I, in a voice which unhappily betrayed more temper than I had yet shown.

“Even so, sir,” said he, moving towards the door.

“In that case,” said I, springing before him, and setting my back against it, you don't leave this room until in the presence of a third party,—I care not who he be,—I have told you somewhat more of my opinion of you than it is necessary I should say now.

The insulting expression of Crofts' features changed suddenly as I spoke, the color left his cheek, and he became as pale as death; his eye wandered round the room with an uncertain look, and then was fixed steadfastly on the door, against which I stood firmly planted. At length his face recovered its wonted character, and he said, in a cool, distinct manner,—

“Your difficulties have made you bold, sir.”

“Not more bold than you 'll find me whenever you think fit to call on me. But perhaps I am wrong for suggesting a test, which report, at least, says Captain Crofts has little predilection for.”

“Insolent cub!” said he, half drawing his sword from the scabbard, and as hastily replacing it when he perceived that I never moved a muscle in my defence, but stood as if inviting his attack. “Let me pass, sir,” cried he, impetuously; “stand by this instant.”

I made no reply, but crossing my arms on my breast, stared at him firmly as before. He had now advanced within a foot of me, his face purple with passion, and his hands trembling with rage.

“Let me pass, I say!” shouted he, in an accent that boded his passion had completely got the ascendant. At the same instant he seized me by the collar, and fixing his grip firmly in my clothes, prepared to hurl me from the spot.

The moment had now come that for some minutes past I had been expecting, and with my open hand I struck him on the cheek, but so powerfully that he reeled back with the stroke. A yell of rage burst from him, and in an instant his sword leaped from the scabbard, and he darted fiercely at me. I sprang to one side, and the weapon pierced the door and broke off short; still, more than half the blade remained, and with this he flew towards me. One quick glance I gave to look for something which might serve to arm me; and the same moment the sharp steel pierced my side, and I fell backwards with the shock, carrying my antagonist along with me. The struggle was now a dreadful one; for while he endeavored to withdraw the weapon from the wound, my hands were on his throat, and in his strained eyeballs and livid color might be seen that a few seconds more must decide the contest. A sharp pang shot through me. Just then a hot gush of warm blood ran down my side, and I saw above me the shining steel, which he was gradually shortening in his hand before he ventured to strike. A wild cry broke from me; while at the instant, with a crash, the door of the room fell forward, torn from its hinges. A heavy foot approached, and the blow of a strong arm felled Crofts to the earth, where he lay stunned and senseless. In a second I was on my feet. My senses were reeling and uncertain; but I could see that it was Darby who came to my rescue, and who was now binding a sash round my wound to stanch the blood.

“Now for it,—life or death 's on it now,” said he, in a low but distinct whisper. “Wipe the blood from your face, and be calm as you can when you're passing the sentry.”

“Is he—” I dared not speak the word as I looked on the still motionless body that lay before me.

Darby raised one arm, and as he let it go, it fell heavily on the ground. He stooped down, and placing his lips near the mouth, endeavored to ascertain if he breathed; and then, jumping to his feet, he seized my arm, and, in a tone I shall never forget, he said, “It 's over now!”

I tottered back as he spoke. The horrible thought of murder,—the frightful sense of crime, the heaviest, the blackest that can stain the heart of man,—stunned me. My senses reeled; and as I looked on that corpse stretched at my feet, I would have suffered my every bone to be broken on the rack, to see one quiver of life animate its rigid members.

Meanwhile Darby was kneeling down, and seemed to search for something beside the body. “Ah! right! Come now,” said he; “we must be far from this before daybreak. And it 's lucky if we We the means to do it.”

I moved onward like one walking ib a dream when horrible images surround him and dreadful thoughts are ever crowding fast; but where, amid all, some glimmering sense of hope sustains him, and he half feels that the terrors will pass away, and his soul be calm and tranquil once more. What is it? what has happened? was the ever-rising question, as I heard Darby groping his way along the dark gallery and the darker stairs.

“Be steady, now,” said he, in a whisper; “we 're at the gate.”

“Who comes there?” cried the sentry.

“A friend!” said Darby, in a feigned voice, answering for me, while he dropped behind me.

The heavy bolts were withdrawn, and I felt the cold air of the streets on my cheek.

“Where to, now?” said I, with a dreamy oonsciousness that some place of safety must be sought, without well knowing why or wherefore.

“Lean on me, and don't speak,” said Darby. “If you can walk as far as the end of the quay, we 're all safe.”

I walked on without further questioning, and almost without thought; and though, from time to time, Darby spoke to several persons as we passed, I heard not what they said, nor took any notice of them.