olor of Hector McKaye's
face. When The Laird took his leave, the lumberjack noted the
increased respect--the emotion, even--with which he parted from her.
The lumberjack heard him say, "Good-by, my dear, and good luck to you
wherever you go"; so it was obvious Nan Brent was not coming back to
Port Agnew. Knowing what he knew, Mr. O'Leary decided that, upon the
whole, here was good riddance to the McKaye family of rubbish that
might prove embarrassing if permitted to remain dumped on the Sawdust
Pile.

"Poor gurrl," he reflected as he followed Nan aboard the train. "She
have a sweet face, that she have, God forgive her! An be th' Rock av
Cashel, she have a v'ice like an angel from heaven."

He sat down in a seat behind her and across the aisle, and all the way
to Seattle he stared at the back of her neck or the beautiful rounded
profile of her cheek. From time to time, he wondered how much Hector
McKaye had paid her to disappear out of his son's life, and how that
son would feel, and what he would say to his father when he discovered
his light o' love had flown the cage.

The following morning Mr. O'Leary boarded a tourist-sleeper on the
Canadian Pacific, and, to his profound amazement, discovered that Nan
Brent and her child occupied a section in the same car.

"Begorra, she couldn't have shtuck the ould man very deep at that, or
'tis in a standard shleeper an' not a tourist she'd be riding," he
reflected. "What the divil's up here at all, at all, I dunno."

Dirty Dan saw her enter a taxicab at the Grand Central Station in New
York.

"I wonder if the young Caddyheck himself'll meet her here," Mr.
O'Leary reflected, alive with sudden suspicion, and springing into the
taxicab that drew in at the stand the instant the taxi bearing Nan and
her child pulled out, he directed the driver to follow the car ahead,
and in due course found himself before the entrance to a hotel in
lower Broadway--one of that fast disappearing number of fifth-class
hotels which were first-class thirty years ago.

Dirty Dan hovered in the offing until Nan had registered and gone up
to her room. Immediately he registered also, and, while doing so,
observed that Nan had signed her real name and given her address as
Port Agnew, Washington. With unexpected nicety, Dirty Dan decided not
to embarrass her by registering from Port Agnew also, so he gave his
address as Seattle.

For two days, he forgot the woes of Ireland and sat round the stuffy
l