On hearing the row and suspecting its cause--for Pat had fled from the kingdom of Kerry from perils of the same sort--his reverence jumped out of bed with a great pound on the floor, and not knowing where to look for his clothes in the dark, he seized his surplice, which always lay in the press at the head of his bed, and got into it with miraculous speed, whisking along the floor two pounds and a half of Mr.Fogarty's best bacon, which the holy man had concealed in the folds of that sacred vestment, to elude the predatory instincts of the women, and from which he and Mr.Mahony were wont to cut their jovial rashers.
The shutter of poor Mahony's window was by this time open, and the gray light disclosed the grimly form of Father Roach, in his surplice, floating threateningly into the chamber.

But the bailiffs were picked men, broad-shouldered and athletic, and furnished with active-looking shillelaghs.

Veni, vidi, victus sum! a glance showed him all was lost.
'My blessin' an you, Peg Finigan! and was it you let them in ?' murmured his reverence, with intense feeling.
'At whose suit ?' enquired the generous outlaw, sitting up among the blankets.
'Mrs.Elizabeth Woolly, relict and administhrathrix of the late Mr.
Timotheus Woolly, of High-street, in the city of Dublin, tailor,' responded the choragus of the officers.
'Woolly--I was thinkin' so,' said the captive.

'I wisht I _had_ her by the wool, bad luck to her!' So away he went, to the good-natured ecclesiastic's grief, promising, nevertheless, with a disconsolate affectation of cheerfulness, that all should be settled, and he under the Priest's roof-tree again before night.
'I don't--exactly--know the nature of the business, gentlemen,' said Father Roach, with considerable hesitation.
'_Urgent_, however, it _was_--wasn't it ?' said Devereux.
'Urgent--well; _certainly_--a--and----' 'And a summons there was no resisting--from a lady--eh?
You said so, Father Roach,' persisted Devereux.
'A--from a leedy--a--yes--certainly,' replied he.
'A _widow_--is not she ?' enquired Devereux.
'A widda, undoubtedly,' said the priest.
'Thay no more Thir,' said little Puddock, to the infinite relief of the reverend father, who flung another look of reproach at Devereux, and muttered his indignation to himself.

'I'm perfectly satisfied; and so, I venture to thay, is Lieutenant O'Flaherty----' 'Is not he going to say something to Nutter ?' enquired Devereux.
'Yes,' whispered Puddock, 'I hope he'll get through it.