"
"Well, there is raison in that too," replied Finigan.
"I am sure, Finigan," proceeded Hycy, "that you are too honorable a man
to breathe either to Bryan M'Mahon or any one else, a single syllable
of the conversation which you overheard merely by accident. I say I
am certain you will never let it transpire, either by word of mouth or
writing. In me you may always calculate on finding a sincere friend;
and of this let me assure you, that your drink, if everything goes right
with us, won't cost you much--much! not a penny; if you had two throats
instead of one--as many necks as Hydra, we should supply them all."
"Give me your hand, Mr. Hycy--you are a gintleman, and I always said
would be one--I did, sir--I prognosticated as much years ago; and
sincerely felicitous am I that my prognostications have been verified
for so far. I said you would rise--that exaltation was before you--and
that your friends might not feel at all surprised at the elevated
position in which you will die. _Propino tibi_, again--and do not fear
that ever revelation of mine shall facilitate any catastrophe that may
await you."
Hycy looked keenly into the schoolmaster's face as he uttered the last
observation; but in the maudlin and collapsed features then before him
he could read nothing that intimated the sagacity of a double meaning.
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