“It's only the demesne, my Lord,” said some one near; “it's not the estate is sold.”
“I know it, sir; but the demesne contains eight hundred acres, fully wooded, and enclosed by a wall.—Who is it for, Dunn?” asked he, turning to that gentleman.
“In trust, my Lord,” was the reply.
“Of that I am aware, sir; you have said as much to the Court.”
Dunn bent over, and whispered some words in his ear.
“Indeed!” exclaimed the other, with evident astonishment; “and intending to reside?” added he.
“Eventually, I expect so,” said Dunn, cautiously, as others were now attending to the conversation.
Again Lord Glengariff spoke; but, ere he had finished, a strange movement of confusion in the body of the Court interrupted him, while a voice hoarse with passionate meaning cried out, “Is the robbery over?—is it done?” and a large, powerful man, his face flushed, and his eyes glaring wildly, advanced through the crowd to the railing beneath the bench. His waistcoat was open, and he held his cravat in one hand, having torn it off in the violence of his excitement.
“Who is this man?” asked the Commissioner, sternly.
“I'll tell you who I am,—Paul Kellett, of Kellett's Court, the owner of that house and estate you and your rascally miscreants have just stolen from me,—ay, stolen is the word; law or justice have nothing to do with it. Your Parliament made it law, to be sure, to pamper your Manchester upstarts who want to turn gentlemen—”