of his great coat; his face was still turned from me, so that I had time
to appear employed in divesting myself of my wet drapery before he
perceived me; at last the coat was unbuttoned, the gaiters followed, and
throwing them carelessly on a chair, he tucked up the skirts of his coat;
and spreading himself comfortably a l'Anglais, before the fire, displayed
to my wondering and stupified gaze, the pleasant features of Doctor
Finucane.

"Why, Doctor--Doctor Finucane," cried I, "is this possible? were you
really the inside in the mail last night."

"Devil a doubt of it, Mr. Lorrequer; and may I make bould to ask,--were
you the outside?"

"Then what, may I beg to know, did you mean by your damned story about
Barney Doyle, and the hydrophobia, and Cusack Rooney's thumb--eh?"

"Oh, by the Lord," said Finucane, "this will be the death of me; and it
was you that I drove outside in all the rain last night! Oh, it will
kill Father Malachi outright with laughing, when I tell him;" and he
burst out into a fit of merriment that nearly induced me to break his
head with the poker.

"Am I to understand, then, Mr. Finucane, that this practical joke of your
was contrived for my benefit, and for the purpose of holding me up to the
ridicule of your confounded acquaintances."

"Nothing of the kind, upon my conscience," said Fin, drying his eyes,
and endeavouring to look sorry and sentimental. "If I had only the least
suspicion in life that it was you, upon my oath I'd not have had the