Next moment the coach was rattling down the street; and the gentleman having accompanied it a short distance, kissed his hand and wheeled up a side street and disappeared.
Unless I was greatly deceived, that gentleman was Captain Lestrange.
"Who are the travellers ?" said I to the man who had shaken his fist.
He was apparently a countryman, dressed in an old frieze coat, with a slouching hat.
He ground his teeth as he turned on me.
"The greatest villain on earth," said he.

"I know him." "I suppose so," said I, "or you would hardly excite yourself about him." "Excite, is it?
Man, dear, if there is a Judas on this earth, that's him! Excite?
you'd be excited too." The man talked like one tipsy, but I did not think it was with drink.
"What has he done to you ?" said I.
"Done?
Isn't that the boy who's lured us all on, and then comes to Dublin to denounce us?
Man alive, did you never hear of Maurice Gorman in your life ?" It was as much as I could do to stand steady under this shock.
"I was never in Dublin before," said I; "how should I?
Is he an Englishman ?" "Englishman?
he's worse.

He's an Irish traitor, I tell you, and feeds on the blood of his people.

He was the toad that made fools of us all, and wormed himself into our secrets, and then turned and stabbed us in the back.

But we're not dead yet.