There.

The place is all yours, sir, and if ye'll just put your feet on the table and make yourself at home, I'll stir around and get a candle and light ye up the ould crazy stairs and see that ye don't come to anny harm, for be this time Mr.Daly'll be that impatient to see your honor that he'll be taking the roof off." He conducted me cautiously and tenderly up the stairs, lighting the way and protecting me with friendly warnings, then pushed the door open and bowed me in and went his way, mumbling hearty things about my wonderful eye for points of a dog.

Mr.Daly was writing and had his back to me.
He glanced over his shoulder presently, then jumped up and said-- "Oh, dear me, I forgot all about giving instructions.

I was just writing you to beg a thousand pardons.

But how is it you are here?
How did you get by that Irishman?
You are the first man that's done it in five and twenty years.