op Furlong, he
asked him to take wine.

"Do they often dwown people here?" continued Furlong, after he had
bowed.

"Not that I know of," said the Squire.

"But are not the lowe' o'ders wather given to what Lo'd Bacon
calls----"

"Who cares about Lord Bacon?" said Murphy.

"My dear sir, you supwise me!" said Furlong, in utter amazement. "Lord
Bacon's sayings----"

"'Pon my conscience," said Murphy, "both himself and his sayings are
very _rusty_ by this time."

"Oh, I see, Miste' Muffy. You neve' will be sewious."

"Heaven forbid!" said Murphy--"at least at dinner, or _after_
dinner. Seriousness is only a morning amusement--it makes a very poor
figure in the evening."

"By-the-bye," said Mr. Bermingham, "talking of drowning, I heard a very
odd story to-day from O'Grady. You and he, I believe," said the
clergyman, addressing Egan, "are not on as good terms as you were."

At this speech Furlong did _rather_ open his eyes, the Squire hummed and
hawed, Murphy coughed, Mrs. Egan looked into her plate, and Dick, making
a desperate rush to the rescue, asked Furlong which he preferred, a
single or a double barrelled gun.

Mr. Bermingham, perceiving the sensation his question created, thought
he had touched upon forbidden ground, and therefore did not repeat his
question, and Fanny whispered Furlong that one of the stranger's mad
peculiarities was mistaking one person for another; but all this did
not satisfy Furlong, whose misgivings as to the real name of his host
were growing stronger every moment. At last, Mr. Bermingham, without
alluding to the broken friendship between Egan and O'Grady, returned to
the "odd story" he had heard that morning about drowning.

"'T is a strange affair," said he, "and our side of the country is all
alive about it. A gentleman who was expected from Dublin last night at
Neck-or-Nothing Hall, arrived, as it is ascertained, at the village,
and thence took a post-chaise, since which time he has not been heard
of; and as a post-chaise was discovered this morning sunk in the river,
close by Ballysloughgutthery bridge, it is suspected the gentleman has
been drowned either by accident or design. The postilion is in
confinement on suspicion, and O'Grady has written to the Castle about
it to-day, for the gentleman was a government agent."

"Why, sir," said Furlong, "that must be me!"

"_You_, sir!" said Mr. Bermingham, whose turn it was to be
surprised now.

"Yes, sir," said Furlong, "I