“‘That’s your friend,’ said Casey.
“‘I see,’ said I; ‘and I wish with all my heart he was at home with his pretty wife, in Leeson Street.’
“‘Is she good-looking?’ inquired Tim.
“‘Devil a better,’ said I; ‘and he’s as jealous as old Nick.’
“‘Hem,’ said Tim, ‘mind your cue, and I’ll give him a start.’ Here he suddenly changed his whispering tone for one in a louder key, and resumed: ‘I say, Power, it will make some work for you lawyers. But who can she be? that’s the question.’ Here he took a much crumpled letter from his pocket, and pretended to read: ‘“A great sensation was created in the neighborhood of Merrion Square, yesterday, by the sudden disappearance from her house of the handsome Mrs. ———.” Confound it!—what’s the name? What a hand he writes! Hill, or Miles, or something like that,—“the lady of an eminent barrister, now on circuit. The gay Lothario is, they say, the Hon. George ———.”’ I was so thunderstruck at the rashness of the stroke, I could say nothing; while the old gentleman started as if he had sat down on a pin. Casey, meanwhile, went on.
“‘Hell and fury!’ said the king’s counsel, rushing over, ‘what is it you’re saying?’
“‘You appear warm, old gentleman,’ said Casey, putting up the letter and rising from the table.
“‘Show me that letter!—show me that infernal letter, sir, this instant!’
“‘Show you my letter,’ said Casey; ‘cool, that, anyhow. You are certainly a good one.’
“‘Do you know me, sir? Answer me that,’ said the lawyer, bursting with passion.