Nutter or he must go down.

The little fellow saw his great red maw and rabid fangs at his throat.

If he let him off, he would devour him, and lie in his bed, with his cap on, and his caudles and cordials all round, as the wolf did by Little Red Riding Hood's grandmamma; and with the weapon which had come to hand--a heavy one too,--he was going, with Heaven's help, to deal him a brainblow.
When Sturk heard in the morning that the blow was actually struck, he jumped out of bed, and was taken with a great shivering fit, sitting on the side of it.

Little Mrs.Sturk, as white as her nightcap with terror, was yet decisive in emergency, and bethought her of the brandy bottle, two glasses from which the doctor swallowed before his teeth gave over chattering, and a more natural tint returned to his blue face.
'Oh! Barney, dear, are we ruined ?' faltered poor little Mrs.Sturk.
'Ruined, indeed!' cried Sturk, with an oath, 'Come in here.' He thought his study was on the same floor with his bed-room, as it had been in old times in their house in Limerick, ten or twelve years before.
'That's the nursery, Barney, dear,' she said, thinking, in the midst of the horror, like a true mother, of the children's sleep.
Then he remembered and ran down to the study, and pulled out a sheaf of bills and promissory notes, and renewals thereof, making a very respectable show.
'Ruined, indeed!' he cried, hoarsely, talking to his poor little wife in the tones and with the ferocity which the image of Nutter; with which his brain was filled, called up.

'Look, I say, here's one fellow owes me that--and that--and that--and there--there's a dozen in that by another--there's two more sets there pinned together--and here's an account of them all--two thousand two hundred--and you may say three hundred--two thousand three hundred--owed me here; and that miscreant won't give me a day.' 'Is it the rent, Barney ?' 'The rent?
To be sure; what else should it be ?' shouted the doctor, with a stamp.
And so pale little Mrs.Sturk stole out of the room, as her lord with bitter mutterings pitched his treasure of bad bills back again into the escritoire: and she heard him slam the study door and run down stairs to browbeat and curse the men in the hall, for he had lost his head somewhat, between panic and fury.