"Ahem!" said Paddy. "Ahem! Are ye listening, Jem Bottles?"
"I be," replied the highwayman.
"Then here's for it," said Paddy in a formidable voice. There was another rustling of paper. Then to my surprise I heard Paddy intone, without punctuation, the following words:
"Dear Sister Mary I am asking the good father to write this because my hand is lame from milking the cows although we only have one and we sold her in the autumn the four shillings you owe on the pig we would like if convenient to pay now owing to the landlord may the plague take him how did your Mickey find the fishing when you see Peggy tell her—"
Here Jem Bottles's voice arose in tones of incredulity.
"And these be the papers of the great Earl!" he cried.
Then the truth flashed across my vision like the lightning. My two madmen had robbed the carriage of the Earl of Westport, and had taken, among other things, the Earl's papers—my papers—Lady Mary's papers. I strode around the haycock.
"Wretches!" I shouted. "Miserable wretches!"
For a time they were speechless. Paddy found his tongue first.
"Aye, 'tis him! 'Tis nothing but little black men and papers with him, and when we get them for him he calls us out of our names in a foreign tongue. 'Tis no service for a bright man," he concluded mournfully.