“An’ phwat did ye find out?” Riley demanded, sternly.

James hesitated.

“Out wid it!” the old man shouted.

“He’s been married again since.”

“Ah, ha! th’ feller phwat says me Misther Robert’s wife ain’t his wife, ‘cause th’ divorce warn’t reg’lar, has been married agin, has he?” Riley’s good-humor began to return with this cheerful bit of information.  “Then that makes him a liar or a Mormon—­take ye’er choice.  Which do ye think it is, Jimmie?”

“Liar,” James replied, sententiously.

“Right ye are, Jimmie!  Right ye are!  Liar it is, tho’ ’twud serve him right ter be th’ other.  An’ where’s his second wife?”

“That’s what’s a-worryin’ him; he don’t know.”

“Ah, ha!” Riley chuckled, “why shouldn’t it?  It’s bad enough when th’ wife don’t know where ye are, but when ye don’t know where th’ wife is an’ her apt ter turn up anny minnit!  Ah, let him worry; it’s good f’r him.  What else did ye find out by ye’er mixin’s?”

“That’s all, so far, but I can get more.  Buckner likes me.”

The old man’s passing amusement was gone, and his indignation returned with full force.

“P’r’aps ye can git th’ likin’s iv a man who says me Misther Robert’s wife ain’t his wife, but ‘twill be healthier f’r ye if ye gits th’ likin’s iv Misther Robert himself.  Now, ye’ll go ter him to-morrer mornin’—­d’ye mind—­an’ ye’ll tell him all ye’ve tol’ me, an’ there won’t be no price asked, an’ ye’ll keep on findin’ out all ye can f’r Misther Robert, an’ ye’ll play fair, an’ ye’ll take phwat pay he chooses ter give ye, an’ if ye thry anny more thricks like th’ dirty wan I’ve just catched ye wid I’ll be back ter see ye, James Riley, an’ I’ll break ivery damn bone in ye’er body, James Riley.  Now, good-night ter ye an’ ye’er prosperities.  I’ll tell Misther Robert ye’ll be up ter see him at nine o’clock to-morrer mornin’.”

The old man drew himself up majestically, cast one more withering glance on the completely humiliated James, and took his departure.

The next morning nine had not ceased striking on the clock standing on the mantelpiece in Mr. Gorham’s study when James Riley was formally and seriously ushered by his father into these, the sacred precincts, where none entered except by its owner’s invitation; but it was a far different James from the man who had called upon Mr. Gorham some weeks earlier.  The younger Riley’s self-assurance was missing, his jaunty air was replaced by a bearing almost timid in its gentleness, his voice had become halty; and when Mr. Gorham first spoke to him he started suddenly, turning his face toward his questioner, and showing apprehension in every feature.

Gorham noticed the change, and, being ignorant of the tragic events of the evening before, was frankly surprised.

“Have you been ill, James?” he inquired, quietly.

“Oh, no, sir—­I’m feeling very well, I thank you, sir,” James answered in a quick, frightened voice.