THE BOLT. 3 



assist me in the purchase of one, if I paid him well for 

 his trouble. When will he be here ?" 



Denny. " To-morrow morning, sur, about eleven." 



And the victim walked triumphantly away. Denny 

 locked up his horses, and walked up to the Commercial 

 Inn to Dunlevy, who had arrived in Manchester, and 

 determined to risk the chances of detection. Denny 

 related the particulars of his interview with the " swell,*' 

 as he called the victim. 



" And now, Dunlevy, my boy, off wid you from this, 

 for sure there's danger in staying." 



" Well, but what's to be done ?" said Dunlevy ; " the 

 horses must run." 



" Throth an* they must, an' one of them must win 

 too, me boy. Will you lave it all to me?" said Denny. 



"Not all, Denny ; I'll tell you what we'll do. You 

 know Mick, don't you ?" said Dunlevy. 



"Does a duck swim ?" said Denny. 



(Michael Dunlevy was a dealer in smuggled, or rather, 

 illicit distilled whiskey, and Ireland was too warm for 

 his health. His trade was carried on through the 

 medium of Irish reapers in harvest time, who carried it 

 from place to place, and sold it to the farmers and second- 

 rate public- houses, as being smuggled by them from 

 Ireland. The ground covered by his travellers was 

 part of Lancashire', Cheshire, and Staffordshire. He 

 lived at a small village near Macclesfield ; but at the 

 time of the*" horse auction," he was in Knutsford Gaol, 

 having been convicted of illicit distillation; but his 



