Beauclerc, that my Lord Dunoran was tried and found
guilty for.'
'Why, all very good; but that did not happen in Ireland.'
'No. 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.
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