We got Kelly out of the room into the street, and began inquiring of
him the whereabouts of this said Bower or Power. "He didn't know,"--the
feather-headed Irishman that he was!--"Faix, by-the-by, he'd forgotten--an'
he went to look for him at the place he tould him, and they didn't know
sich a one there--"
"Oh, oh! Mr. Power has an _alibi_, then? Perhaps an _alias_ too?"
"He didn't know his name rightly. Some said it was Brown; but he was a
broth of a boy--a thrue people's man. Bedad, he gov' away arms afthen and
afthen to them that couldn't buy 'em. An' he's as free-spoken--och, but
he's put me into the confidence! Come down the street a bit, and I'll tell
yees--I'll be Lord-Lieutenant o' Dublin Castle meself, if it succades, as
shure as there's no snakes in ould Ireland, an' revenge her wrongs ankle
deep in the bhlood o' the Saxon! Whirroo! for the marthyred memory o' the
three hundred thousint vargens o' Wexford!"
"Hold your tongue, you ass!" said Crossthwaite, as he clapped his hand over
his mouth, expecting every moment to find us all three in the Rhadamanthine
grasp of a policeman; while I stood laughing, as people will, for mere
disgust at the ridiculous, which almost always intermingles with the
horrible.
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