“Maybe ye think I murdered him?” And then, as I made no answer, he resumed in a different tone: “And faix, ye war n't long larnin' their lessons. But hear me now: there never was a traitor to the cause had a happy life or an easy death; there never was one betrayed us but we were revenged on him or his. I don't think ye 're come to that yet; for if I did, by the mortial—”
As he pronounced the last word, in a tone of the fiercest menace, the sound of many voices talking without, and the noise of a key turning in the lock, broke in upon our colloquy; and Darby had scarcely time to resume his disguise when Bubbleton entered, followed by three of his brother officers, all speaking together, and in accents that evidently betokened their having drunk somewhat freely.
“I tell you, again and again, the diamond wins it But here we are,” cried Bubbleton; “and now for a pack of cards, and let 's decide the thing at once.”
“You said you 'd bet fifty, I think?” drawled out Crofts, who was unquestionably the most sober of the party. “But what have we here?” At this instant his eye fell upon Darby, who had quietly ensconced himself behind the door, and hoped to escape unseen. “Eh, what's this, I say?”
“What!” cried Bubbleton; “what do I see? A nymph with bright and flowing hair; a hag like Hecuba, by Jove! Tom Burke, my man, how comes the damsel here?”
“'Tis Kitty, ould Kitty Cole, your honor—The young gentleman was buying a ballad from me, the Heavens prosper him!” said Darby.
“Nothing treasonous, I hope; no disloyal effusion, Tom; no scandal about Queen Elizabeth, my boy,—eh?”
“Come, old lady,” said Cradock, “let's have the latest novelty of the Liberty.”
“Yes,” said Bubbleton; “strike the harp in praise of—Confound the word!”
“Hang the old crone!” broke in Hilliard. “Here are the cards. The game stands thus: a spade is led,—you 've got none; hearts are trumps.”