CHAPTER XLVII.
"THE JOLLY BOWLERS"—THE DOUBLE FRAY AND THE FLIGHT.
At the time of which we write, there lay at the southern extremity of the city of Dublin, a bowling-green of fashionable resort, well known as "Cullen's Green." For greater privacy it was enclosed by a brick wall of considerable height, which again was surrounded by stately rows of lofty and ancient elms. A few humble dwellings were clustered about it; and through one of them, a low, tiled public-house, lay the entrance into this place of pastime. Thitherward O'Connor and O'Hanlon, having left their horses at the "Cock and Anchor," were led by the wily Italian.
"The players you say, will not stop till dusk," said O'Connor; "we can go in, and I shall wait until the party have broken up, to speak to Ashwoode; in the interval we can mix with the spectators, and so escape remark."
They were now approaching the little tavern embowered in tufted trees, and as they advanced, they perceived a number of hack carriages and led horses congregated upon the road about its entrance.
"Sir Henry is within; that iron-grey is his horse; sangue dun dua, there is no mistake," observed the Neapolitan.
The little party entered the humble tavern, but here they were encountered by a new difficulty.
"You can't get in to-night, gentlemen—sorry to disappint, gentlemen; but the green's engaged," said mine host, with an air of mysterious importance; "a private party, engaged two days since for fear of a disappint."
"Are they so strictly private, that they would not suffer two gentlemen to be spectators of their play?" inquired O'Hanlon.