Be gogstay! Dick Macnamara closed with the offer like a man. I was sent for the pistols, and the gentlemen called for a bottle of sherry. You see, in case of accident, it would come well before a jury that they drank each other’s healths, and fought in perfect friendship, for that would benefit the survivor.
They slipped into the ball-room, and every body thought the thing was settled, they were so quiet and civil with each other as they went up stairs. The pistols were charged—“An’ now,” says Callaghan, “for the last time, I ask ye, will ye have my sister Sophy?”
“Arrah, don’t lose the light in talkin’—ye have my answer already,” says Dick Macnamara.
Well, they were placed in the corners of the room, and a man with a red nose asked, “if they were ready?” Both said, “Yes!”
“Fire!” says he. Slap off went both pistols like the clapping of a hand, and down dropped Mr. Callaghan with a ball clane into his calf.—Well, every body ran to lift him, when, suddenly, the cry of murder was raised from the other end of the room, and out dashed a man in a shirt and scarlet night-cap, and a fat woman close at his heels, just as they had tumbled out of bed.
[Original]
“Oh, Holy Moses!” says he. “Save our lives! Murder! Murder!”
“What’s wrong with ye, honest man?” says I.