"I'll swear to that all right, your honour."
"Good. Now then kiss that pistol," said Hal, producing a small Derringer from his pocket.
"Kiss that craythure! Why it's a gun, and may be loaded. It may kill me. Oh, Biddy, Biddy, your darlint is going to be kilt entoirely! I can see your game. You are going to kill me and make me swear to say nothing about it."
"I'll hold the barrel towards me. You kiss the stock," said Hal, laughing.
"Well hold it tight, your honour, for if it goes off it might kick me with its rump."
"D—n you block-headed Irishman," said Hal, losing his temper.
"I'll kiss it; I'll kiss it; and if it do kick I'll open my mouth."
"Say after me then—I swear to keep this meeting secret."
"I won't, I won't; for I'll have to confess to Father Doolan. Oh, Biddy, Biddy, your darlint is amongst burglars!"
"Now then, Terence O'Flynn, with the accent on the 'ynn,' you are a silly fool, but you have sworn to keep secret all that passes here, and to assist us, for which we will pay you—"