VII.

_I was not always a man of woe._

WALTER SCOTT.

VII.

IN WHICH THERE IS A MADMAN.

_Mr. Flint sips vino d'oro--The Stranger--The Letter--Mr. Flint
Outwitted--Mr. Flint's Photograph--The Madman's Story--The wrecked
Soul--How Mr. Flint is troubled by his Conscience, and dreams of a
Pair of Eyes._

The same night on which Mortimer was writing in the books of Flint &
Snarle, Mr. Flint sat in the library of his bachelor home, sipping a glass
of _vino d'oro_; and as the bells of Trinity Church fell faintly on his
ear, he drew a massive gold watch from his fob, and, patting it
complacently on the back, scrutinized its face as if he would look it out
of countenance. Then he yawned a couple of times and thought of bed.

"There's a gintleman without, sur," said Michel, putting his comical head
in at the library door, "there's a gintleman without, sur," and he
emphasized the 'gintleman.'

"What sort of a person, Michel?"

"A very quare one indade. 'Is Mr. Flint in?' sez he. 'He is sur,' sez I. 'I
want to see him,' sez he. 'Your kard, sur,' sez I. He stared at me a minit,
and laughed. Then, sez he, without the least riverence for your worship,
'Give this _to owld Flint_!'" And Michel, exploding with laughter, handed
Flint a knave of clubs very much soiled.

"Michel!" said Mr. Flint, drawing himself up to his full altitude, "kick
him down the steps!"

"Thanks!" said a voice directly behind Michel, who had retreated to the
doorway. The voice was so near and unexpected that Michel's crisp hair
stood on end with fright.

The door was thrown wide open, and a fine looking man, with the bearing of
a sailor, stood between them. Mr. Flint turned as white as his immaculate
shirt-bosom; and Michel, whose love of fun had got the better of his scare,
regarded the intruder with a quizzical, inquiring air, peculiarly Irish.

"Michel," said Mr. Flint, "you may go."

That gentleman, not expecting such an order, hesitated.

"Yes, sur."

"Michel," said the stranger, "your master speaks to you."

"Sure I heard him, sur."

Michel left the room and carefully closed the door after him; but Flint,
who knew his inquiring proclivities, opened it suddenly, and found Michel
on all fours with his ear to the key-hole. The door was opened so
unexpectedly that the listener did not discover the fact for the space of
ten seconds. When he looked up and beheld his master, the intense