chor, in
Brooklyn. Patrick O'Donoghan lodges there when he is in New York. The
name of the hotel-keeper is Mr. Bowles, and he is an old sailor. If he
does not know, I do not know of any one else who can tell you anything
about him."

Erik hurried on board one of the ferry-boats that cross the East River,
and ten minutes later he was in Brooklyn.

At the door-way of the Red Anchor he saw an old woman, who was neatly
dressed, and busily occupied in peeling potatoes.

"Is Mr. Bowles at home?" he said, saluting her politely, after the
custom of his adopted country.

"He is at home, but he is taking a nap," answered the good woman,
looking with curiosity at her questioner. "If you have any message for
him, you can give it to me. I am Mrs. Bowles."

"Oh, madam, you can no doubt give me the information I desire as well as
Mr. Bowles," answered Erik. "I wish to know whether you are acquainted
with a sailor named Patrick O'Donoghan, and whether he is now with you,
or if you can tell me where I can find him?"

"Patrick O'Donoghan: yes, I know him, but it is five or six years since
he has been here, and I am unable to say where he is now."

Erik's countenance displayed such great disappointment that the old
woman was touched.

"Are you so anxious to find Patrick O'Donoghan that you are disappointed
in not finding him here?" she asked.

"Yes, indeed," he answered. "He alone can solve a mystery that I shall
seek all my life to make clear."

During the three weeks that Erik had been running everywhere in search
of information, he gained a certain amount of experience in human
nature. He saw that the curiosity of Mrs. Bowles was aroused by his
questions, he therefore entered the hotel and asked for a glass of
soda-water.

The low room in which he found himself was furnished with green tables,
and wooden chairs, but it was empty. This circumstance emboldened Erik
to enter into conversation with Mrs. Bowles, when she handed him the
bottle of soda-water which he had ordered.

"You are doubtless wondering, madam, what I can want with Patrick
O'Donoghan, and I will tell you," said he, with a smile.

"An American vessel called the 'Cynthia' was lost about seventeen years
ago on the coast of Norway; Patrick O'Donoghan was employed on board. I
was picked up by a Norwegian fisherman when I was about nine months old.
I was floating in a cradle attached to a buoy of the 'Cynthia.' I am
seeking O'Donoghan to see if he can give