“You say, Mr. Hycy,” replied Finigan, emptying his glass, “that you would enthertain no apprehension in placing confidence in me?”

“Not the slightest,” replied Hycy; “I believe you to be the very soul of honor; and, besides, are you not my old master?  As you say yourself, did I not break grammatical ground, under you?”

“The soul of honor,” replied the pedagogue, complacently—­“that is excellently said.  Well, then, Mr. Burke, I shall not deal out my confidence by beggarly instalments—­I did hear Bryan M’Mahon’s name mentioned; and I heard a plan alluded to between you and them for reducing him to—­”

“That was all humbug, Finigan, so far as I am concerned; but for the present I am obliged to let them suppose what you allude to, in order to keep them honest to myself if I can.  You know they have a kind of hereditary hatred against the M’Mahons; and if I did not allow them to take their own way in this, I don’t think I could depend on them.”

“Well, there is raison in that too,” replied Finigan.

“I am sure, Finigan,” proceeded Hycy, “that you are too honorable a man to breathe either to Bryan M’Mahon or any one else, a single syllable of the conversation which you overheard merely by accident.  I say I am certain you will never let it transpire, either by word of mouth or writing.  In me you may always calculate on finding a sincere friend; and of this let me assure you, that your drink, if everything goes right with us, won’t cost you much—­much! not a penny; if you had two throats instead of one—­as many necks as Hydra, we should supply them all.”

“Give me your hand, Mr. Hycy—­you are a gintleman, and I always said would be one—­I did, sir—­I prognosticated as much years ago; and sincerely felicitous am I that my prognostications have been verified for so far.  I said you would rise—­that exaltation was before you—­and that your friends might not feel at all surprised at the elevated position in which you will die. Propino tibi, again—­and do not fear that ever revelation of mine shall facilitate any catastrophe that may await you.”

Hycy looked keenly into the schoolmaster’s face as he uttered the last observation; but in the maudlin and collapsed features then before him he could read nothing that intimated the sagacity of a double meaning.  This satisfied him; and after once more exacting from Finigan a pledge of what he termed honorable confidence, he took his departure.

CHAPTER IX.—­A Little Polities, Much Friendship, and Some Mystery