“That he knew it would fail, sir,” rejoined O'Reilly, with a bitterness that showed he was not sorry to say a disagreeable thing.
“Ay! but Nalty was frightened about his annuity; he thought, maybe, I 'd die in earnest. Well, we 've something left yet.”
“What's that?” asked O'Reilly, almost sternly.
“The indictment for forgery,” said Hickman, with a savage energy.
“Then you must look out for another lawyer, sir,” said Nalty. “That I tell you frankly and fairly.”
“What?—I didn't hear.”
“He refuses to take the conduct of such a case,” said O'Reilly; “and, indeed, I think on very sufficient grounds.”
“Ay!” muttered the old doctor. “Then I suppose there 's no help for it! Here, Bob, put these papers in the fire.”
So saying, he drew a thick roil of documents from beneath his pillow, and placed it in his son's hands. “Put them in the blaze, and let me see them burned.”
O'Reilly did as he was told, stirring the red embers till the whole mass was consumed.