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"Before you go let me ask if you know a vagabond called Ranting Rody, who goes about through the country living no one knows how?" "No, I do not know him; what is he?" "He's nothing except a paramour of Caterine Collins's, who, you know, is a rival of ours; nobody here knows anything about him, whilst he, it appears, knows every one and everything."
The fellow, however, as we said, was both cowardly and suspicious, and took it into his head that his friend might feel disposed to play him a trick, by sending him to conduct the burglary, of which Hanlon had spoken with such startling confidence a piece of cowardice which, indeed, was completely gratuitous and unfounded on his part; the truth being, that it was the Prophet's interest, above all things, to keep Rody out of danger, both for that worthy individual's sake and his own.
"The man," continued Hanlon, "that betrayed you gave me one account of what you're about; but whether he tould me thruth or not I don't know till I hear another, an' that's yours. Now, you see clearly, Rody, that I'm up to all as it is, so you need not be a bit backward in tellin' the whole thruth.
"Is there no one with her but the carman?" "Not one hould you tongue here's the gate where the same pair was to meet us. Who is this stranger that Rody has picked up? I hope he's the thing." "Some red-headed fellow. Rody says he is honest. I'm wondherin', aunt, what 'ud happen if she'd know the place." "She can't, girshah an' what if she does? She may know the place, but will the place know her?
"Bekaise," continued Rody, "when we're all safe, an' out o' the raich o' danger, I have a thing to say to you about Sarah." "Very well, Rody," said the Prophet, with a grim but bitter smile, "it'll be time enough then. Now, go and manage these fellows, an' see you do things as they ought to be done." "She's fond o' Charley Hanlon, to my own knowledge." "Who is?"
"It was a treacherous thing, I grant, to betray you, Rody," said Hanlon; "an' if I was in your place, I'd give him tit for tat. An', by the way, talkin' of the Prophet not that I say it was he betrayed you for indeed now it wasn't bad cess to me if it was I think you wanst said you knew more about him than I thought."
Isn't it a mane thing for you, Frank, to be hangin' afther a girl that's fonder of another than she is of yourself. By this and by that, I'd no more do it avvouh! catch me at it I'd have spunk in me." Frank's brow darkened as Rody spoke; instead of instantly replying', he was silent and appeared to be debating some point in his own mind, on which he had not come to a determination.
It was now the day but one previous to the commencement of the assizes, and our readers will be kind enough to accompany us to the Grange, or rather to the garden of the Grange, at the gate of which our acquaintance Red Rody is knocking.
On another occasion a neighbor, whose name happened to be Cook, came to spend the day at Dualla. He brought with him his two children, a boy and a girl, of whom he was inordinately proud. Old Rody and Cook were sitting on the terrace, drinking punch; the children were playing on the lawn. "Now, Scully," said the proud parent, pointing to his boy, "isn't he a regular Cook?"
Her father, however, proceeded: "Ay who murdhered him, my lord? Why, my lord hem it was Condy Dalton, an' I have another man to prove it along wid myself one Rody Duncan; now Rody answer strong; swear home; mind yourself, Rody." These words were spoken aside, precisely as one would address them when instructing any person to give a particular line of evidence.
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