“Faix,” said Billy, “it isn't sitting here at the same table with yourself that I ought to gainsay that remark.”
And Harcourt was so struck by the air of good breeding in which he spoke, that he grasped his hand, and shook it warmly.
“And what is more,” continued Billy, “from this day out I 'll never think so.”
He drank off his glass as he spoke, giving to the libation all the ceremony of a solemn vow.
“D' ye hear that?—them's oars; there's a boat coming in.”
“You have sharp hearing, master,” said Harcourt, laughing.
“I got the gift when I was a smuggler,” replied he. “I could put my ear to the ground of a still night, and tell you the tramp of a revenue boot as well as if I seen it. And now I'll lay sixpence it's Pat Morissy is at the bow oar there; he rows with a short jerking stroke there 's no timing. That's himself, and it must be something urgent from the post-office that brings him over the lough to-night.”
The words were scarcely spoken when Craggs entered with a letter in his hand.
“This is for you, Colonel,” said he; “it was marked 'immediate,' and the post-mistress despatched it by an express.”
The letter was a very brief one; but, in honor to the writer, we shall give it a chapter to itself.