Being told by the doctor that he thought Magee must have some brandy, Mr. Raeburn paid a visit to the jail. He found the prisoner sitting on his narrow bed, looking haggard and ill, but as sullen as ever.
"Well, Magee," said Mr. Raeburn, pleasantly, "have you made up your mind to tell all you know of the parentage of that stolen child? You have confessed that you connived at, if you did not assist in the crime, and it may go hard with you at the trial."
Patrick replied, with a furious oath, "Niver a word more will I spake about the matter, if they hang me."
"If I will endeavor to get you discharged; if I will promise to give you some decent clothes, and to furnish you with easy and constant employment, will you tell?"
"No."
"If I will give you a glass of good brandy, will you tell?"
Patrick started, and his dull eyes flashed, but with his old cunning he replied, "Show me first the brandy."
Mr. Raeburn took a flask from his pocket and poured out a glass nearly full. With a trembling, outstretched hand, the poor sot cried, "Yes, yes, yer honor, give it to me, and on my word, on my sowl, I'll tell."
The glass was given him, and he drained it with a sort of frantic relish; then almost immediately, and very hurriedly, began his story.
"Molly's father is Squire Phillips, a mighty clever lawyer and a rich man. He lives at Newburgh, on the Hudson, forninst Fishkill; you mind the town?"