Adair took her time to reply.

"No," said she.

"Then she is still at Ramelton?"

Mrs. Adair shook her head.

"There was a fire at Lennon House a year ago. Did you ever hear of a
constable called Bastable?"

"Indeed, I did. He was the means of introducing me to Miss Eustace and
her father. I was travelling from Londonderry to Letterkenny. I received
a letter from Mr. Eustace, whom I did not know, but who knew from my
friends at Letterkenny that I was coming past his house. He asked me to
stay the night with him. Naturally enough I declined, with the result
that Bastable arrested me on a magistrate's warrant as soon as I landed
from the ferry."

"That is the man," said Mrs. Adair, and she told Durrance the history
of the fire. It appeared that Bastable's claim to Dermod's friendship
rested upon his skill in preparing a particular brew of toddy, which
needed a single oyster simmering in the saucepan to give it its
perfection of flavour. About two o'clock of a June morning the spirit
lamp on which the saucepan stewed had been overset; neither of the two
confederates in drink had their wits about them at the moment, and the
house was half burnt and the rest of it ruined by water before the fire
could be got under.

"There were consequences still more distressing than the destruction of
the house," she continued. "The fire was a beacon warning to Dermod's
creditors for one thing, and Dermod, already overpowered with debts,
fell in a day upon complete ruin. He was drenched by the water hoses
besides, and took a chill which nearly killed him, from the effects of
which he has never recovered. You will find him a broken man. The
estates are let, and Ethne is now living with her father in a little
mountain village in Donegal."

Mrs. Adair had not looked at Durrance while she spoke. She kept her eyes
fixed steadily in front of her, and indeed she spoke without feeling on
one side or the other, but rather like a person constraining herself to
speech because speech was a necessity. Nor did she turn to look at
Durrance when she had done.

"So she has lost everything?" said Durrance.

"She still has a home in Donegal," returned Mrs. Adair.

"And that means a great deal to her," said Durrance, slowly. "Yes, I
think you are right."

"It means," said Mrs. Adair, "that Ethne with all her ill-luck has
reason to be envied by many other women."

Durrance did not answer that suggestion directly. He watched the
carriages dri