' responded
Larry.

'H'm! not precisely the thing we want, though,' says Toole.

'There are some of them, surely, that _don't_ keep shops,' said
Devereux, a little impatiently.

'Millions!' said Larry.

'Come, say their names.'

'Only one of them came this evening, Mr. Doolan, of Stonnybatther--he's
a retired merchant.'

'That will do,' said Toole, under his breath, to Devereux. Devereux
nodded.

'Just, I say, tap him on the shoulder, and tell him that Dr. Toole, you
know, of this town, with many compliments and excuses, begs one word
with him,' said the doctor.

'Hoo! Docthur dear, he was the first of them down, and was carried out
to his coach insensible jist when Mr. Crozier of Christ Church began,
"Come Roger and listen;" he's in his bed in Stonnybatther a good hour
and a half ago.'

'A retired merchant,' says Devereux; 'well, Toole, what do you advise
now?'

'By Jove, I think one of us must go into town. 'Twill never do to leave
poor Nutter in the lurch; and between ourselves, that O'Flaherty's a--a
blood-thirsty idiot, by Jove--and ought to be put down.'

'Let's see Nutter--you or I must go--we'll take one of these songster's
"noddies."'

A 'noddy' give me leave to remark, was the one-horse hack vehicle of
Dublin and the country round, which has since given place to the
jaunting car, which is, in its turn, half superseded by the cab.

And Devereux, followed by Toole, entered the front parlour again. But
without their help, the matter was arranging itself, and a second, of
whom they knew nothing, was about to emerge.

CHAPTER IX.

HOW A SQUIRE WAS FOUND FOR THE KNIGHT OF THE RUEFUL COUNTENANCE.

When Dr. Toole grumbled at his disappointment, he was not at all aware
how nearly his interview with Loftus had knocked the entire affair on
the head. He had no idea how much that worthy person was horrified by
his proposition; and Toole walked off in a huff, without bidding him
good-night, and making a remark in which the words 'old woman' occurred
pretty audibly. But Loftus remained under the glimpses of the moon in
perturbation and sore perplexity. It was so late he scarcely dared
disturb Dr. Walsingham or General Chattesworth. But there came
the half-stifled cadence of a song--not bacchanalian, but
sentimental--something about Daphne and a swain--struggling through the
window-shutters next the green hall-door close by, and Dan instantly
bethought himself of Father Roach. So knocking stoutl