"'T is a strange affair," said he, "and our side of the country is all alive about it. A gentleman who was expected from Dublin last night at Neck-or-Nothing Hall, arrived, as it is ascertained, at the village, and thence took a post-chaise, since which time he has not been heard of; and as a post-chaise was discovered this morning sunk in the river, close by Ballysloughgutthery bridge, it is suspected the gentleman has been drowned either by accident or design. The postilion is in confinement on suspicion, and O'Grady has written to the Castle about it to-day, for the gentleman was a government agent."
"Why, sir," said Furlong, "that must be me!"
"You, sir!" said Mr. Bermingham, whose turn it was to be surprised now.
"Yes, sir," said Furlong, "I took a post-chaise at the village last night, and I'm an agent of the gove'ment."
"But you're not drowned, sir—and he was," said Bermingham.
"To be su'e I'm not dwowned; but I'm the pe'son."
"Quite impossible, sir," said Mr. Bermingham. "You can't be the person."
"Why, sir, do you expect to pe'suade me out of my own identity!"
"Oh," said Murphy, "there will be no occasion to prove identity till the body is found, and the coroner's inquest sits; that's the law, sir—at least, in Ireland."
Furlong's bewildered look at the unblushing impudence of Murphy was worth anything. While he was dumb from astonishment, Mr. Bermingham, with marked politeness, said, "Allow me, sir, for a moment to explain to you. You see, it could not be you, for the gentleman was going to Mr. O'Grady's."