r, let me know; for I am impatient to hear the
result."

"All is lost," replied Birney; "and I fear we have been outgeneralled.
The clergyman is dead, and the book in which the record of her death
was registered has disappeared, no one knows how. I strongly suspect,
however, that your opponent is at the bottom of it."

"You mean Dunroe?"

"I do; that scoundrel Norton, at once his master and his slave,
accompanied by a suspicious-looking fellow, whose name I discovered to
be Mulholland, were there before us, and I fear, carried their point
by securing the register, which I have no doubt has been by this time
reduced to ashes."

"In that case, then," replied the stranger, despondingly, "it's all up
with us."

"Unless," observed Birney, "you have been more successful at home than I
have been abroad. Any trace of Mrs. Norton?"

"None whatsoever. But, my dear Birney, what you tell me is surprisingly
mysterious. How could Dunroe become aware of the existence of these
documents? or, indeed, of our proceedings at all? And who is this
Mulholland you speak of that accompanied him?"

"I know nothing whatever about him," replied Birney, "except that he
is a fellow of dissolute appearance, with sandy hair, not ill-looking,
setting aside what is called a battered look, and a face of the most
consummate effrontery."

"I see it all," replied the other. "That drunken scoundrel M'Bride
has betrayed us, as far, at least, as he could. The fellow, while his
conduct continued good, was in my confidence, as far as a servant ought
to be. In this matter, however, he did not know all, unless, indeed, by
inference from the nature of the document itself, and from knowing
the name of the family whose position it affected. How it might have
affected them, however, I don't think he knew."

"But how do you know that this Mulholland is that man?"

"From your description of him I am confident there can be no mistake
about it--not the slightest; he must have changed his name purposely on
this occasion; and, I dare say, Dunroe has liberally paid him for his
treachery."

"But what is to be done now?" asked Birney; "here we are fairly at
fault."

"I have seen Miss Gourlay," replied the other, "and if it were only from
motives of humanity, we must try, by every means consistent with honor,
to stop or retard her marriage with Dunroe."

"But how are we to do so?"

"I know not at present; but I shall think of it. This is most
unfortunate. I