Miss Grimshaw laughed.
"I'm no friend of money-lenders," said she.
"Sure, I could tell that be your face, miss."
"But I do not wish to see the man injured or hurt."
"Hurt, miss!" cried Moriarty in a virtuous voice. "Sure, where would be the good of hurtin' him, unless he was kilt outright? You lave it to me, miss, and I'll trate him as tender as an infant. I've tould him I'll drive him to Mr. Frinch's house, and I will; but he won't get Nip nor Tuck."
"Very well," said Miss Grimshaw. "As long as you don't hurt him I don't care."
Moriarty withdrew, and Mrs. Sheelan appeared. The cleaning process was evident in the polish of her face. She would take nothing for the tea; it was to go down to Mr. French's account, by his own express orders.
Having bestowed a shilling upon Biddy, the traveller left the inn.
The seedy personage in the tall hat was comfortably seated on the outside car reading a day-before-yesterday's Freeman's Journal, and a new gossoon was holding the mare's head vice the old gossoon, who had been sent on horseback hot foot to Drumgool to give warning to Mr. French.