He was out to-day, levying fines from Popish priests, and a heavy one from the Popish bishop, and I do not think, with a large sum of money about him, that he will go home to-night.
Here is the letter.

I expect he will call on me in the morning, to breakfast--at least I have asked him, for we have very serious business to discuss." The Rapparee took the letter, finished his glass of brandy, and disappeared to fulfil his commission.
Now it so happened that on that very evening, before the premises had been set on fire, Mary Mahon, by O'Donnel's order, had entered the house, and under, as it were, the protection of the military, gathered up as much of Reilly's clothes and linen as she could conveniently carry to her cottage, which was in the immediate vicinity of Whitecraft's residence--it being the interest of this hypocritical voluptuary to have the corrupt wretch near him.

The Rapparee, having left Whitecraft to his reflections, immediately directed his steps to her house, and, with her connivance, changed the dress he had on for one which she had taken from Reilly's wardrobe.

He then went to the house of the nobleman where the sheriff was dining, but arrived only in time to hear that he was about to take horse on his return home.

On seeing him preparing to mount, bearing a lantern in his hand, as the night was dark and the roads bad, he instantly changed his purpose as to the letter, and came to the resolution of not delivering it at all.
"I can easily say," thought he, "that the sheriff had gone home before I came, and that will be a very sufficient excuse.