“Never mind the claims!” answered Barry, who began to fear that he had pushed his little invention a thought too far.  “I tell you, I must stand to them; you don’t suppose I’d ask her to pay a penny as a favour?  No; I’m a little too proud for that.  Besides, it’d be no use, not the least; and that’s what I’m coming to.  You see, Anty’s got this money, and—­You know, don’t you, Mr Daly, poor Anty’s not just like other people?”

“No,” said Mr Daly—­“I didn’t.  I can’t say I know much about Miss Lynch.  I never had the pleasure of seeing her.”

“But did you never hear she wasn’t quite right?”

“Indeed, I never did, then.”

“Well that’s odd; but we never had it much talked about, poor creature.  Indeed, there was no necessity for people to know much about it, for she never gave any trouble; and, to tell the truth, as long as she was kept quiet, she never gave us occasion to think much about it.  But, confound them for rogues—­those who have got hold of her now, have quite upset her.”

“But what is it ails your sister, Mr Lynch?”

“To have it out, at once, then—­she’s not right in her upper story.  Mind, I don’t mean she’s a downright lunatic; but she’s cracked, poor thing, and quite unable to judge for herself, in money-matters, and such like; and, though she might have done very well, poor thing, and passed without notice, if she’d been left quiet, as was always intended, I’m afraid now, unless she’s well managed, she’d end her life in the Ballinasloe Asylum.”

The attorney made no answer to this, although Barry paused, to allow him to do so.  Daly was too sharp, and knew his employer’s character too well to believe all he said, and he now began to fancy that he saw what the affectionate brother was after.  “Well, Daly,” continued Barry, after a minute’s pause; “after the old man died, we went on quiet enough for some time.  I was up in Dublin mostly, about that confounded loan, and poor Anty was left here by herself; and what should she do, but take up with a low huxter’s family in the town here.”

“That’s bad,” said the attorney.  “Was there an unmarried young man among them at all?”

“Faith there was so; as great a blackguard as there is in Connaught.”

“And Miss Lynch is going to marry him?”

“That’s just it, Daly; that’s what we must prevent.  You know, for the sake of the family, I couldn’t let it go on.  Then, poor creature, she’d be plundered and ill-treated—­she’d be a downright idiot in no time; and, you know, Daly, the property’d go to the devil; and where’d I be then?”

Daly couldn’t help thinking that, in all probability, his kind host would not be long in following the property; but he did not say so.  He merely asked the name of the “blackguard” whom Miss Anty meant to marry?

“Wait till I tell you the whole of it.  The first thing I heard was, that Anty had made a low ruffian, named Moylan, her agent.”