I stopped short and said sternly: “You have been smoking.”
“Begorra I’ve not,” said he.
“Then you have been lighting those beastly sulphur matches.”
“I’ve not,” said he.
I walked over to the dressing-table, looked in the glass, then started back, and let out at him.
“Have done with your fooling tricks. How dare you grin over my shoulder like that?”
“I did not,” he replied.
“If it was not you it must have been the devil then,” I said sternly. “And I don’t wonder at it, when such a cross-grained ugly beggar as you sits in my quarters alone at this time of night. Take care, Mike,” I said impressively; “take care. Remember what Father de Rohan told you. If you will eat meat on Friday, and will quarrel and insult everyone, the devil will be after you in earnest.
“What’s that?” I cried, looking hard past him. “Get out of this, Mike; the company you keep here when I’m out is not safe for a Christian man.”
He turned very white, was evidently very uncomfortable, crossed himself over and over again, and bolted.