"Is he the one they call by the ridiculous name of 'The'?" asked Raynes.
"'Tain't ridiculous. Whist, now, hide yer ignorance if ye can. They have shillelaghs as well as we. You sphake up to him."
"I'm not afraid," said Joshua.
"To be sure you aren't. How could the father of Tilly mavourneen be afraid?"
"That's what I'm thinkin'," said Raynes.
"Ah, thin, jintlemen, here ye be. Welcome to my hovel, The Desmond, asthore. Welcome, Master Malachi. The gent is gettin' a bit restive. He's anxious to see ye, to relieve a burden on his mind."
"I am, and I don't like those sticks you hold," said Raynes.
The man, who for the time being had adopted the name of The Desmond, was in reality Fergus, the heir to that ancient title. He immediately laid his stick on the table. Phinias went out into the yard whistling. Malachi shook hands with Raynes, as though he was his oldest and dearest friend, whom he had not met for at least twenty years.
"I hope ye are feelin' comfortable, sir," he said.