Come out here," said he, "here's Tom Breen wid your hat." The son left his room, and it was evident from his appearance that he had not undressed at all during the night.

The constables immediately observed these circumstances, which they did not fail to interpret to his disadvantage.
"Here is your hat," said the man who bore it; "one would think you were travelin' all night, by your looks." The son thanked him for his civility, got clean stockings, and after arranging his dress, said to his father-- "I'm now ready to go, father, an' as I can't do what you want me to do, there's nothing for me but to leave the country for a while." "He acknowledged it himself," said the father, turning to Breen; "an' in that case, how could I let the son that shamed me live undher my roof ?" "He's the last young man in the country I stand in," said Breen, "that any one who knew him would suspect to be guilty of robbery.

Upon my soul, Lamh Laudher More, I'm both grieved an' distressed at it.

We're come to arrest him," he added, "for the robbery he committed last night." "Robbery!" they exclaimed with one voice.
"Ay," said the man, "robbery, no less--an' what is more, I'm afraid there's little doubt of his guilt.

Why did he lave his hat at the place where the attempt was first made?
He must come with us." The mother shrieked aloud, and clapped her hands like a distressed woman; the father's brow changed from the flushed hue of indignation, and became pale with apprehension.
"Oh! no, no," he exclaimed, "John never did that.