At Newmarket, the "Pied Horse."' 'Ay, in England.

I know, and that's out of our jurisdiction.' 'I don't care.

I'll go to London if you like--to Bow-street--anywhere--so as I make sure to hang him; for my life is worse than death while he's at this side of the grave--and I'd rather be in my coffin--I would--than live within five miles of him.

Anyway, you'll hear what I have to say, and to _swear_, and send me safe across the water to Bow-street, or wherever else you think best; for, if he has his liberty, and gets sight o' me again, I'm a dead man.' 'Come in here, Mr.Irons, and take a chair,' said the justice.
Doctor Toole was in the room, in a balloon-backed chair, regaling himself with a long pipe, and Mr.Lowe shut the door.
'We have another deposition, doctor, to take; Mr.Irons, here, is prepared to swear informations of very singular importance.' 'Irons, hollo! from what planet did you drop to-night ?' 'Mullingar, Sir.' 'Nothing about the burning of the old woman at Tyrrell's Pass, eh ?' 'No--'tis an old story.

I don't care what comes of it, I'm innocent, only you'll say I kept it too long to myself.