"Get the money first, granny. I won't give him the blow till _it_ is
safe."

"Won't you?" replied the beldame; "ay, _dher Creestha_, will you, whin
you know what. I have to tell you about him an'--an'----"

"And who, granny?"

"_Diououl_, man, but I'm afeard to tell you, for fraid you'd kill me."

"Tut, Nelly; I'd not strike an Obeah-wo-man," said he, laughing.

"I suspect foul play between him an'--her."

"Eh? Fury of hell, no!"

"He's very handsome," said the other, "an' young--far younger than you
are, by thirteen--"

"Go on--go on," said the Dead Boxer, interrupting her, and clenching
his fist, whilst his eyes literally glowed like live coals, "go on--I'll
murder him, but not till--yes, I'll murder him at a blow--I will; but
no--not till you secure the money first. If I give him the blow--THE
BOX--I might never get it, granny. A dead man gives back nothing."

"I suspect," replied Nell, "_arraghid_--that is the money--is in other
hands. Lord presarve us! but it's a wicked world, blackey."

"Where is it!" said the Boxer, with a vehemence of manner resembling