Sturk moved his lips with a sort of a nod.

And, Doctor Sturk, you remember you then said you had yourself seen Charles Archer do that murder ?" Sturk lifted his hand feebly enough to his forehead, and his lips moved, and his eyes closed. They thought he was praying possibly he was; so they did not interrupt him; and he said, all on a sudden, but in a low dejected way, and with many pauses. "Charles Archer. I never saw another such face; 'tis always before me. He was a man that everybody knew was dangerous-a damnable profligate besides and, as all believed, capable of anything, though nobody could actually bring anything clearly home to him but his bloody duels, which, however, were fairly fought. I saw him only twice in my life before I saw him here. I saw him fight Beau Langton; and I saw him murder Mr. Beauclerc. I saw it all!" And the Doctor swore a shuddering oath.

"I lay in the small room or closet off the chamber in which he slept. I was suffering under a bad fracture, and dosed with opium. 'Tis all very strange, sir. I saw everything that happened. I saw him stab Beauclerc. Don't question me; it tires me. I think 'twas a dagger. It looked like a small bayonet. I'll tell you howall, by-and-by."

He sipped a little wine and water, and wiped his lips with a very tremulous handkerchief.

"I never spoke of it, for I could not. The whole of that five minutes' work slipped from my mind, and was gone quite and clean when I awoke. What I saw I could not interrupt. I was in a cataleptic state, I suppose. I could not speak; but I saw like a lynx, and heard every whisper. When I wakened in the morning I remembered nothing. I did not know I had a secret. The knowledge was sealed up till the time came. A sight of Charles Archer's face at any time would have had, as I suppose, the same effect. When I saw him here, the first time, it was at the General's, at Belmont; though he was changed by time, and carefully disguised, all would not do. I felt the sight of him was fatal. I was quite helpless; but my mind never stopped working upon it till-till"

Sturk groaned. "See now, said Toole, "there's time enough, and don't fatigue yourself. There, now, rest quiet a minute."

And he made him swallow some more wine; and felt his pulse; and shook his head despondingly at Lowe behind his back.

"How is it?" said Sturk, faintly. "A little irritable-that's all," said Toole.

"Till one night, I say"-Sturk resumed, after a minute or two, "it came to me all at once, awake---I dont know-or in a dream; in a moment I had it all. 'Twas like a page cut out of a book-lost for so many years." And Sturk moaned a despairing wish to heaven that the secret had never returned to him again.

"Yes sir-like a page cut out of a book, and never missed till 'twas found again; and then sharp and clear, every letter from first to last. Then sir-then-thinking 'twas no use at that distance of time taking steps to punish him, I-I foolishly let him understand I knew him. My mind misgave me from the first. I think it was my good angel that warned me. But 'tis no use now. I'm not a man to be easily frightened. But it seemed to me he was something altogether worse than a man, and like-like Satan ; and too much for me every way. If I was wise I'd have left him alone. But 'tis no good fretting now. It was to be. I was too outspoken-'twas always my way--and I let him know; and--and you see, he meant to make away with me. He tried to take my life, sir; and I think he has done it. I'll never rise from this bed, gentlemen. I'm done for.”

"Come, Doctor Sturk, you mustn't. talk that way, Pell will be out this evening, and Dillon maybe--though faith! I don't quite know that Pell will meet him-but we'll put our heads together, and deuce is in it or we'll set you on your legs again."

Sturk was screwing his lips sternly together, and the lines of his gruff haggard face were quivering, and a sudden tear or two started down from his closed eye.

"I'm-I'm a little nervous, gentlemen-I'll be right just now. I'd like to see the the children, if they're in the way, that's all-by-and-by you

know.

་་་

"I've got Pell out, you see-not that there's any special need-you know; but he was here before, and it wouldn't do to offend him; and he'll see you this afternoon."

"I thank you, sir," said Sturk, in the same dejected way.

"And sir," said Lowe, "if you please, I'll get this statement into the shape of a deposition or information, for you see 'tis of the vastest imaginable importance, and exactly tallies with evidence we've got elsewhere, and 'twouldn't do, sir, to let it slip."

And Toole thought he saw a little flush mount into Sturk's sunken face, and he hastened to say

"What we desire, Doctor Sturk, is to be able to act promptly in this case of my Lord Dunoran. Measures must be taken instantly, you see, for 'tis of old standing, and not a day to he lost, and there's why Mr. Lowe is so urgent to get your statement in white and black."

66

And sworn to, "I'll swear it," same sad tones.

added Mr. Lowe. said Sturk in the

And Mrs. Sturk came in, and Toole gave leave for chicken broth at twelve o'clock, about two tablespoonsful, and the same at half-past one, when he hoped to be back

again. And on the lobby he gave her, with a cheery countenance, all the ambiguous comfort he could. And Lowe asked Mrs. Sturk for more pens and paper, and himself went down to give his man a direction at the door, and on the way, in the hall, Toole looking this way and that, to see they weren't observed, backed him into the front parlour, and said he, in a low key-

"The pulse are up a bit, not very much, but still I don't like it-and very hard, you see and what we've to dread you know's inflammation; and he's so shocking low, my dear sir, we must let him have wine and other things, or we'll lose him that way; and you see it is a mighty unpleasant case."

And coming into the hall, in a loud confident voice he cried-"And I'll be here again by half-past one o'clock."

And so he beckoned to the boy with his horse to come up, and chatted in the interim to Mr. Lowe upon the steps, and told him how to manage him if he grew exhausted over his narrative; and then, mounting his nag, and kissing his hand and waving his hat to Mrs. Sturk, who was looking out upon him from Barney's window, he rode away for Dublin.

TOOLE, on reaching town, spurred on to the dingy residence of Mr. Luke Gamble. It must be allowed that he had no clear intention of taking any step whatsoever in consequence of what he might hear. But the little fellow was deuced curious; and Dirty Davy's confidence gave him a sort of right to be satisfied.

So with his whip under his arm, and a good deal out of breath, for the stairs were steep, he bounced into the attorney's sanctum.

"Who's that? Is that?- Why, bless my soul! it's yourself," cried Toole, after an astonished pause of a few seconds at the door, springing forward, and grasping Nutter by both hands, and shaking them vehemently, and grinning very joyously and kindly

the while.

Nutter received him cordially, but

a little sheepishly. Indeed, his experiences of life, and the situations in which he had found himself since they last met, were rather eccentric and instructive than quite pleasant to remember. And Nutter in his way was a proud fellow, and neither liked to be gaped at nor pitied.

But Toole was a thorough partizan of his, and had been urgent for permission to see him in gaol, and they knew how true he had been to poor Sally Nutter, and altogether felt very much at home with him.

So sitting in that twilight room, flanked with piles of expended briefs, and surrounded with neatly docketted packets of attested copies, notices, affidavits, and other engines of legal war-little Toole, having expended his congratulations, and his private knowledge of Sturk's revelations, fell

upon the immediate subject of his visit.

"That rogue, Davy O'Reegan, looked in on me, not an hour ago, at the Phoenix, and I'm afraid he'll give us a deal of trouble yet. He told me a plenty of lies, I make no doubt; pressing me to use my interest with your good lady to leave the house and furniture to Mary Matchwell, quietly, if you please. But we're not so easily bubbled, sir. He told me that the certificate

"Ay-here's a copy ;" and Luke Gamble threw a paper on the table before him.

"That's it-Mary Duncan-1750the very thing the rascal! Well," he said, "you know, but I knew better, that you had admitted the certificate formally."

"So I have, sir," said Mr. Gamble drily, stuffing his hands into his breeches pockets, and staring straight at Toole with elevated eyebrows, and as the little Doctor thought, with a very odd expression in his eyes.

"You have, sir?"

"I have!" and then followed a little pause, and Mr. Gamble said—

"I did so, sir, because there's no disputing it-and-and I think, Doctor Toole, I know something of my business."

There was another pause, during which Toole, flushed and shocked, turned his gaze from Gamble to Nutter. ""Tis a true bill, then?" said Toole scarcely above his breath and very dismally.

A swarthy flush covered Nutter's dark face. The man was ashamed.

"Tis nigh eighteen years ago, sir," said Nutter, embarrassed, as he well might be. "I was a younger man, then, and was bit, sir, as many another has been, and that's all.”

Toole got up, stood before the fireplace, and hung his head, with compressed lips, and there was a silence, interrupted by the hard man of law, who was now tumbling over his papers in search of a document, and humming a tune as he did so.

"It may be a good move for Charles Nutter, sir, but it looks very like a check-mate for poor Sally," muttered Toole angrily.

Mr. Luke Gamble either did not hear him, or did not care a farthing what he said; and he hummed his tune very contentedly.

“

And I had, moreover," said he, to make another admission for the same reason, videlicet, that Mary Matchwell, who now occupies a portion of the Mills, the promovent in this suit, and Mary Duncan mentioned in that certificate, are one and the same person. Here's our answer to their notice, admitting the fact."

"I thank you," said Toole again, rather savagely, for a glance over his shoulder had shown him the Attorney's face grinning with malicious amusement, as it seemed to him, while he readjusted the packet of papers from which he had just taken the notice; "I saw it, sir, your brother lawyer, Mr. O'Reegan, sir, showed it me this morning.'

And Toole thought of poor little Sally Nutter, and all the wreck and ruin coming upon her and the Mills; and began to con over his own liabilities, and to reflect seriously whether, in some of his brisk altercations on her behalf with Dirty Davy and his client, he might not have committed himself rather dangerously and especially the consequences of his morning's collision with Davy grew in darkness and magnitude very seriously, as he reflected that his entire statement had turned out to be true, and that he and his client were on the winning side.

"It seems to me, sir, you might have given some of poor Mrs. Nutter's friends at Chapelizod a hint of the state of things. I, sir, and Father Roache-we've meddled, sir,more in the business than-than-but no matter now-and all under a delusion, sir. And poor Mistress Sally Nutter-she doesn't seem to trouble you much, sir."

He observed that the Attorney was chuckling to himself still more and more undisguisedly, as he slipped the notice back again into its place.

"You gentlemen of the law think of nothing, sir, but your clients. I suppose 'tis a good rule; but it may be pushed somewhat far. And what do you propose to do for poor Mistress Sally Nutter?" demanded Toole, very sternly, for his blood was up.

"She has heard from us this morning," said Mr. Gamble, grinning on his watch, "and she knows all by this time; and 'tisn't a button to her."

And the Attorney laughed in his

face; and Nutter, who had looked sulky and uncomfortable, could resist no longer, and broke into a queer responsive grin. It seemed to Toole like a horrid dream.

There was a tap at the door just at this moment.

66 Come in," cried Mr. Gamble, still exploding in comfortable little bursts of half-suppressed laughter.

"Oh! 'tis you? Very good, sir," said Mr. Gamble, sobering a little. He was the same lanky, vulgar, and slightly-squinting gentleman, pitted with the small-pox, whom Toole had seen on a former occasion. And the little Doctor thought he looked even more cunning and meaner than before. Everything had grown to look repulsive, and every face was sinister now; and the world began to look like a horrible masquerade full of half-detected murderers, traitors, and miscreants.

"There isn't a soul you can trust --'tis enough to turn a man's head; 'tis sickening, by George!" grumbled the little Doctor fiercely.

"Here's a gentleman, sir," said Gamble, waving his pen towards Toole, with a chuckle, "who believes that ladies like to recover their husbands."

The fellow grew red, and grinned a sly uneasy grin, looking stealthily at Toole, who was rapidly growing angry.

Yes, sir, and one who believes, too, that gentlemen ought to protect their wives," added the little Doctor, hotly.

"As soon as they know who they are," muttered the Attorney to his pa

But Toole broke away from him sulkily, with

"I wish you a good morning, sir." It was quite true that Sally Nutter was to hear from Charles and Mr. Gamble that morning; for about the time at which Toole was in conference with those two gentlemen in Dublin, two coaches drew up at the Mills.

Mr. Gamble's conducting gentleman was in one, and two mysterious personages sat in the other.

"I want to see Mrs. Nutter," said Mr. Gamble's emissary.

"Mrs. Nutter's in the parlour, at your service," answered the lean grinning maid who had opened the door, and who recognised the gentleman in question as an adherent of the enemy, and assumed her most impertinent leer and tone on the instant.

The ambassador looked in and drew back.

"Oh, then, 'tisn't the mistress you want, but the master's old housekeeper; ask her.”

And she nodded toward Moggy, whose head was over the banister.

So as he followed that honest handmaiden up the stairs, he drew from his coat-pocket a bundle of papers, and glanced at their endorsements, for he had a long exposition to make, and then some important measures

to execute.

Toole had to make up for lost time; and as he rode at a smart canter into the village, he fancied he observed the signs of an unusual excitement there. There were some faces at the windows, some people on their door-steps, and a few groups in the street; they were all looking in the Dublin direction. He had a nod or two as he passed. Toole thought forthwith of Mr. David O'Reegan-people generally refer phenomena to what most concerns themselves and a dim horror of some unknown summary process dismayed him; but his hall-door shone peaceably in the sun, and his boy stood whistling on the steps, with his hands in his pockets. Nobody had been there since. Pell had not yet called at Sturk's.

"And what's happened-what's the neighbours lookin' after?" said Toole, as his own glance followed the general direction, so soon as he had dismounted.

'Twas a coach that had driven through the town, at a thundering pace, with some men inside, from the Knockmaroon direction, and a lady that was screeching. She broke one of the coach windows in Martin's-row, and the other-there, just opposite the Phoenix." The glass was glittering on the road. "She had rings on her hand, and her knuckles were all bleeding, and it was said 'twas poor Mrs. Nutter going away with the keepers to a mad-house.' Toole turned pale and ground his teeth, looking towards Dublin.

"I passed it myself near Islandbridge; I did hear screeching, but I thought 'twas from t'other side of the wall. There was a fellow in an

old blue and silver coat on the box with the driver—eh ?"

"The same," said the boy; and Toole, with difficulty swallowing down his rage, hurried into his house, resolved to take Lowe's advice on the matter, and ready to swear to poor Sally's perfect sanity--" the crature! the villains!"

But now he had only a moment to pull off his boots, to get into his grand costume, and seize his cane and his muff, too-for he sported one; and so, transformed and splendid, he marched down the paved trottoir-Doctor Pell, happily, not yet arrived-to Sturk's house. There was a hackney coach near the steps.

ON entering the front parlour from whence, in no small excitement, there issued the notes of a coarse diapason, which he fancied was known to him, he found the visitor in somewhat tempestuous conference with Mr. Justice Lowe.

He was, in fact, no other than Black Dillon; black enough he looked just now. He had only a moment before returned from a barren visit to the Brass Castle, and was in no mood to be trifled with.

""Twasn't I, sir, but Mr. Dangerfield, who promised you five hundred guineas," said Mr. Lowe with dry nonchalance.

"Five hundred fiddles," retorted Doctor Dillon-his phrase was coarser, and Toole at that moment entering the door, and divining the situation from the Doctor's famished glare and wild gestures, exploded, I'm sorry to say, in a momentary burst of laughter into his cocked hat. 'Twas instantly checked, however; and when Dillon turned his flaming eyes upon him, the little Doctor made him a bow of superlative gravity, which the furious hero of the trepan was too full of his wrongs to notice in any way.

66

I was down at his house, bedad, the 'Brass Castle,' if you plaise, and not a brass farthin' for my pains, nothing there but an ould woman, as ould and as ugly as himself, or the

divil-be gannies! An' he's levanted, or else tuck for debt. Brass Castle! brass forehead, bedad. Brass, like Goliath, from head to heels, bedad; an' by the heels he's laid, I'll take my davey, considherin' at his laysure which is the strongest a brass castle or a stone jug. An' where, sir, am I to get my five hundhred guineas-where, sir?" he thundered, staring first in Lowe's face, then in Toole's, and dealing the table a lusty blow at each interrogatory.

"I think, sir," said Lowe, anticipating Toole, "you'd do well to consider the sick man, sir." The noise certainly was considerable.

"I don't know, sir, that the sick man's considherin' me much," retorted Doctor Dillon. "Sick man-sick grandmother's aunt! If you can't speak like a man o' sense, don't spake, at any rate, like a justice o' the pace. Sick man, indeed! why there's not a crature livin' barrin' a natural eediot, or an apothecary, that doesn't know the man's dead; he's dead, sir; but 'tisn't so with me; an' I can't get on without vittles, and vittles isn't to be had without money; that's logic, Mr. Justice; that's a medical fact, Mr. Docthor. An' how am I to get my five hundhred guineas'? I say, you and you--the both o' ye that prevented me of going last night to his brass castle-brass snuff-box-'tis little bigger-an' gettin' my money.