'My father at home?'
'Yes, my lord, in his own room—the agent from Ireland with him, on particular business—desired not to be interrupted—but I'll go and tell him, my lord, you are come.'
Lord Colambre ran past the servant, as he spoke—made his way into the room—found his father, Sir Terence O'Fay, and Mr. Garraghty—leases open on the table before them; a candle lighted; Sir Terence sealing; Garraghty emptying a bag of guineas on the table, and Lord Clonbrony actually with a pen in his hand, ready to sign.
As the door opened, Garraghty started back, so that half the contents of his bag rolled upon the floor.
'Stop, my dear father, I conjure you,' cried Lord Colambre, springing forward, and kneeling to his father; at the same moment snatching the pen from his hand.
Colambre! God bless you, my dear boy! at all events. But how came you here?—And what do you mean?' said his father.
'Burn it!' cried Sir Terence, pinching the sealing-wax; 'for I burnt myself with the pleasure of the surprise.'
Garraghty, without saying a word, was picking up the guineas that were scattered upon the floor.
'How fortunate I am,' cried Lord Colambre, 'to have arrived just in time to tell you, my dear father, before you put your signature to these papers, before you conclude this bargain, all I know, all I have seen, of that man!'
'Nick Garraghty, honest old Nick; do you know him, my lord?' said Sir Terence.