unexpected effrontery.

"From Sir Robert Whitecraft," replied Miss Folliard, "and the wages of
your dishonesty and his corruption are the sources of your inspiration.
Take the woman away, papa."

"That will do, Molly--that will do," exclaimed the squire, "there is
something' additional for you. What you have told us is very odd--very
odd, indeed. Go and get your dinner in the kitchen."

Miss Folliard then withdrew to her own room.

Between eleven and twelve o'clock that night a carriage drew up at
the grand entrance of Corbo Castle, out of which stepped Sir Robert
Whitecraft and no less a personage than the Red Rapparee. They
approached the hall door, and after giving a single knock, it was opened
to them by the squire himself, who it would seem had been waiting to
receive them privately. They followed him in silence to his study.

Mr. Folliard, though a healthy-looking man, was, in point of fact, by
no means so. Of a nervous and plethoric habit, though brave, and even
intrepid, yet he was easily affected by anything or any person that
was disagreeable to him. On seeing the man whose hand had been raised
against his life, and what was still more atrocious, whose criminal
designs upon the honor of his daughter had been proved by his violent
irruption into her chamber, he felt a suffocating sensation of rage and
horror that nearly overcame him.

"Sir Robert," he said, "excuse me; the sight of this man has sickened
me. I got your note, and in your society and at your request I have