Baugh! He had heard of a rake-helly dog, with some stuff in his brain-pan, and he came to me--and I done it--Black Dillon done it--ha, ha! that's for the pack of them.

Baugh!' Doctor Dillon knew that the profession slighted him; and every man's hand against him, his was against every man.
Sturk was propped up and knew Lowe, and was, in a ghastly sort of way, glad to see him.

He looked strangely pale and haggard, and spoke faintly.
'Take pen and ink,' said he.
There were both and paper ready.
'He would not speak till you came,' whispered Toole, who looked hotter than usual, and felt rather small, and was glad to edge in a word.
'An' don't let him talk too long; five minutes or so, and no more,' said Doctor Dillon; 'and give him another spoonful now--and where's Mr.
Dangerfield ?' 'And do you really mean to say, Sir, he promised you a fee of _five_--eh ?' said Toole, who could not restrain his somewhat angry curiosity.
'Five hundred guineas--ha, ha, ha! be gannies, Sir, there's a power of divarsion in that.' ''Tis a munificent fee, and prompted by a fine public spirit.

We are all his debtors for it! and to you, Sir, too.

He's an early man, Sir, I'm told.