sination, and of the motives which could have impelled him to such
a crime. Several opinions were advanced upon the circumstance, but as
it had failed, his triumph over the Dead Boxer, as unexpected as it was
complete, soon superseded it, and many a health was given "to the best
man that ever sprung from the blood of the Lamh Laudhers!" for so
they termed him, and well had he earned the epithet. At this moment an
incident occurred which considerably subdued their enjoyment. Breen, the
constable, came to inform them that Nell McCollum, now weltering in her
blood, and at the point of death, desired instantly to see them.

Our readers have been, no doubt, somewhat surprised at the sudden
disappearance of Nell. This artful and vindictive woman had, as we have
stated, been closely dogged through all her turnings and windings, by
the emissaries of Mr. Brookleigh. For this haunt where she was in the
habit of meeting her private friends. The preparations, however, for the
approaching fight, and the tumult it excited in the town, afforded her
an opportunity of giving her spies the slip. She went, on the evening
before the battle, to a small dark cabin in one of the most densely
inhabited parts of the town, where, secure in their privacy, she found
Nanse M'Collum, who had never left the town since the night of the
robbery, together with the man called Rody, and another hardened ruffian
with red hair.

"_Dher ma chuirp_," said she, without even a word of precious
salutation, "but I'll,lay my life that Lamh Laudher bates the black. In
that case he'd be higher up wid the town than ever. He knocked him down
last night."

"Well," said Rody, "an' what if he does? I would feel rather satisfied
at that circumstance. I served the black dog for five years, and a more
infernal tyrant never existed, nor a milder or more amiable woman than
his wife. Now that you have his money, the sooner the devil gets himself
the better."

"To the black _diouol_ wid yourself an' your Englified _gosther_,"
returned Nell indignantly; "his wife! _Damno' orth_, don't make my blood
boil by speaking a word in her favor. If Lamh Laudher comes off best,
all I've struv for is knocked on the head. _Dher Chiernah_, I'll crush
the sowl of his father or I'll not die happy."

"Nell, you're bittherer than soot, and blacker too," observed Rody.

"Am I?" said Nell, "an' is it from the good crathur that was ready, the
other night, to murdher the mild innocent woman tha