thing--but I'll tell you what I will do--I'll be on the lookout--I'll
ask, seek, and inquire from them that have been about him at the time
of the child's disappearance, and if I can get a single particle worth
mentionin' to you, you shall have it, if I could only know where a
letther would find you."

The cunning, the sagacity, the indefinable twinkle that scintillated
from the small, piercing eyes, were too obvious to be overlooked. The
stranger instantly felt himself placed, as it were, upon his guard, and
he replied,

"It is possible that I may not be in town, and my address is uncertain;
but the moment you are in a capacity to communicate any information
that may be useful, go to the proper quarter--to Lady Gourlay herself. I
understand that a relation of yours lived and died in her service?"

"That's true," said the man, "and a betther mistress never did God put
breath in, nor a betther masther than Sir Edward. Well, I will follow
your advice, but as for Sir Thomas--no matther, the time's comin'--the
river's flowin--and if there's a God in heaven, he will be punished
for all his misdeeds--for other things as well as takin' away the
child--that is, if he has taken him away. Now, sir, that's all I can say
to you at present--for I know nothing about this business. Who can tell,
however, but I may ferret out something? It won't be my heart, at any
rate, that will hinder me."

There was nothing further now to detain the stranger in town. He
accordingly posted it at a rapid rate to Ballytrain, accompanied
by Dandy and his dulcimer, who, except during the evenings among
the servants in the hotel, had very little opportunity of creating a
sensation, as he thought he would have done as an amateur musician in
the metropolis.

"Musha, you're welcome back, sir," said Pat Sharpe, on seeing the
stranger enter the Mitre; "troth, we were longin' for you, sir. And
where is herself, your honor?"

"Whom do you mean, Pat?" said the stranger, sharply.

Pat pointed with his thumb over his shoulder toward Red Hall. "Ah!" he
exclaimed, with a laugh, "by my soul I knew you'd manage it well. And
troth, I'll drink long life an' happiness an' a sweet honeymoon to yez
both, this very night, till the eyes stand in my head. Ah, thin, but she
is the darlin', God bless her!"

If a thunderbolt had fallen at his feet, the stranger could
not have felt more astonishment; but that is not the
word--sorrow--agony--indignation.

"Gracious hea