"By St. Patrick! the spirit of a prince, and an Irish prince, spoke
there," cried Sir Terence: "and if I'd fifty hearts, you'd have all in
your hand this minute, at your service, and warm. Blindfold you! After
that, the man that would attempt it _desarves_ to be shot; and I'd
have no sincerer pleasure in life than shooting him this moment, was
he my best friend. But it's not Clonbrony, or your father, my lord,
would act that way, no more than Sir Terence O'Fay--there's the
schedule of the debts," drawing a paper from his bosom; "and I'll
swear to the lot, and not a man on earth could do that but myself."

Lord Colambre opened the paper. His father turned aside, covering his
face with both his hands.

"Tut, man," said Sir Terence: "I know him now better than you; he will
stand, you'll find, the shock of that regiment of figures--he is steel
to the backbone, and proof spirit."

"I thank you, my dear father," said Lord Colambre, "for trusting
me thus at once with a view of the truth. At first sight it is, I
acknowledge, worse than I expected; but I make no doubt that, when
you allow me to examine Mr. Garraghty's accounts and Mr. Mordicai's
claims, we shall be able to reduce this alarming total considerably."

"The devil a pound, nor a penny," said Sir Terence; "for you have to
deal with a Jew and Old Nick; and, since I'm not a match for them, I
don't know who is; and I have no hope of getting any abatement. I've
looked over the accounts till I'm sick."

"Nevertheless, you will observe that fifteen hundred guineas have been