118 THE DEAD HEAT 



writ can you serve him wid, my honey ; av ye don't 

 be off the master will be after shooting ye for a 

 thafe from the hall windy." 



" I'm no writ server," returned the Colonel. " I 

 come in consequence of a note I received from Cap- 

 tain O'Kooney this morning." 



" Troth, then, ye are the English soldier colonel. 

 His honour the master will be wid ye at onst," and 

 the head disappeared. 



Presently that of the Captain protruded. 



" See now, Colonel," said he, " ould Mat thought 

 you were a Bum. I'm sorry to say I'm a Sunday 

 man now. The thundering thieves they've been 

 about the place all the morning to serve me. I 

 wish they may get it. Nabocklish ! catch a weasel 

 asleep. I'll let you in." 



In a minute or so the front door was slowly and 

 cautiously unchained, and the Colonel found himself 

 in the hall of Clough-bally-More Castle. It was a 

 perfect ruin, and, if possible, more ghastly and 

 miserable-looking on the inside than the outside. 

 The Captain's room was, however, pretty cosy, and 

 in decent repair. A bright turf fire burnt on the 

 hearth ; a couple of guns adorned the walls ; rods, 

 fishing-tackle, and various other sporting parapher- 

 nalia were scattered about the room in indescrib- 

 able confusion. 



