“Sure an’ there’s no betther way than I said before. I’ll have an oi on a boat, and see that there’s some wather and bishkits and a gun in her; and thin, sor, I’ll set light to the magazine, for it’ll be a rale plisure to blow up that owld gintleman as is always leering and grinning at me as much as to say, ‘Och, Dinny, ye divil, I know all about the widdy, and first time ye go to see her I’ll tell Black Mazzard, and then, ’ware, hawk!’”
“But when shall you do this?”
“First toime it seems aisy, sor.”
“In the night?”
“Av coorse, sor.”
“And how shall I know?”
“Hark at that, now! Faix, ar’n’t I telling ye, sor, that I’ll blow up the magazine! Sure an’ ye don’t pay so much attention to it when ye go to shleep that ye won’t hear that?”
“Of course I shall hear it,” said Humphrey, excitedly.
“Thin, that’s the signal, sor; and when it goes fizz, lie riddy and wait till I kim to ye, and thin good bye to the rover’s loife, and Black Mazzard will see the darlin’ no more. Whisht!”