for another end. It was abruptly and with an ill
grace that the master of the house cut short the scene and bade all sit
down if they wanted their meat.

"What are we waiting for?" he continued querulously. "Where's the girl?
Stop your jabbering, Martin! And Phelim----"

"Sure, I believe the mare's got from her," Uncle Ulick cried. "I heard
a horse, no farther back than this moment."

"I'm wishing all horses in Purgatory," The McMurrough replied angrily.
"And fools too! Where's the wench gone? Anyway, I'm beginning. You can
bide her time if you like!"

And begin he did. The others, after looking expectantly at the
door--for none dared treat Flavia as her brother treated her--and after
Asgill had said something about waiting for her, fell to also, one by
one. Presently the younger of the slipshod footboys let fall a
dish--fortunately the whole service was of pewter, so no harm was
done--and was cursed for awkwardness. Where was Darby? He also had
vanished.

The claret began to go round in the old Spanish silver jug--for no
house in the west lacked Bordeaux in those days; it was called in
London coffee-houses Irish wine. Still, neither Flavia nor the butler
returned, and many were the glances cast at the door. By-and-by the
Colonel--who felt that a cloud hung over the board, as over his own
spirits--saw, or fancied that he saw, an odd thing. The door--that
which led to the back of the house--opened, as if the draught moved it;
it remained open a space, then in a silent, ghostly fashion it fell-to
again. The Colonel laid down his knife, and Uncle Ulick, whose eyes had
followed his, crossed himself. "That's not lucky," the big man said,
his face troubled. "The saints send it's not the white horse of the
O'Donoghues has whisked her off!"

"Don't be for saying such unchancy things, Mr. Sullivan!" Phelim
answered, with a shiver. And he, too, crossed himself. "What was it, at
all, at all?"

"The door opened without a hand," Uncle Ulick explained. "I'm fearing
there's something amiss."

"Not with this salmon," James McMurrough struck in contemptuously. "Eat
your supper and leave those tales to the women!"

Uncle Ulick made no reply, and a moment later Darby entered, slid round
the table to Uncle Ulick's side, and touched his shoulder. Whether he
whispered a word or not Colonel John did not observe, but forthwith the
big man rose and went out.

This time it was James McMurrough who laid down his knife. "What in the