A good deal of that, however, depends upon yourself; but, as you say, I'll think of it." Hycy, who could never bear ridicule, especially from the very man whom he attempted to ridicule most, bounced up, and after muttering something in the shape of an oath that was unintelligible, said, assuming all his polite irony:-- "Do so, Mr.Burke; in the mean time I have the pleasure of wishing you a very good evening, sir." "Oh, a good-evening, sir," replied the old fellow, "and when you come home from the wars a full non-commissioned officer, you'll be scowerin' up your halbert every Christmas an' Aisther, I hope; an' telling us long stories--of all you killed an' ate while you were away from us." Harry Clinton, now aware that the anonymous letter which his uncle had received that morning was the production of Hycy, resolved to watch the gauger's motions very closely.

After a great deal of reflection upon Hycy's want of memory concerning their bargain, and upon a close comparison between his conduct and whole manner on the night in question, and his own account of the matter in the course of their last interview, he could not help feeling that his friend had stated a gross falsehood, and that the pretended want of recollection was an ingenious after-thought, adopted for the purpose of screening himself from the consequences of whatever injury he might inflict upon Bryan M'Mahon.
"Harry," said his uncle, as nine o'clock approached, "I am going upon duty tonight." "In what direction, sir?
may I ask." "Yes, you may, but I'm not bound to tell you.

In this instance, however, there is no necessity for secrecy; it is now too late to give our gentleman the hard word, so I don't care much if I do tell you.

I am bound for Ahadarra." "For Ahadarra--you say for Ahadarra, uncle ?" "I do, nephew." "By heavens, he is the deepest and most consummate scoundrel alive," exclaimed Harry; "I now see it all.

Uncle, I wish to God you would--would---I don't know what to say." "That's quite evident, nor what to think either.