“Yes, Patsy.”
“And stand with it in your fist close to the wall of me room be the window. I’d open the sash. Paddy Murphy would stick the ugly head of him into the room——”
“Yes, Patsy?”
“Thin you’d let fly wid the gun and blow it aff him.”
“Why, you murderous young devil,” said Mr Fanshawe, “do you know what you are proposing—do you know you could be hanged for doing that?”
“For doin’ which, sir?”
“Which!—blowing a man’s head off like that.”
“Sure, who’d know?” replied the other. “The p’leece would be so glad to be shut of him, they’d never ax no questions; and wouldn’t he desarve it?”
“I don’t know anything about Mr Murphy’s deserts,” said Mr Fanshawe; “he may be bad enough, but I’m not going to assassinate him in cold blood. Patsy, can you keep a secret?”
“Tight as a drum,” replied Patsy.