sorrowful recesses of her pure and virtuous heart, was this coldblooded and cruel tyrant to work out his diabolical purposes without any effort being made to check him in his career of guilt, or to justify her pious trust in that God to whom she looked for protection and justice?  No, he knew Lucy too well; he knew that her extraordinary sense of truth and honor would justify him in the steps he might be forced to take, and that whatever might be the result, he at least was the last man whom she could blame for rendering justice to the widow of her father’s brother.  But, then again, what reliance could be placed upon anonymous information—­information which, after all, was but limited and obscure?  Yet it was evident that the writer—­a female beyond question—­whoever she was, must be perfectly conversant with his motives and his objects.  And if in volunteering him directions how to proceed, she had any purpose adversative to his, her note was without meaning.  Besides, she only reawakened the suspicion which he himself had entertained with respect to Fenton.  At all events, to act upon the hints contained in the note, might lead to something capable of breaking the hitherto impenetrable cloud under which this melancholy transaction lay; and if it failed to do this, he (the stranger) could not possibly stand worse in the estimation of Sir Thomas Gourlay than he did already.  In God’s name, then, he would make the experiment; and in order to avoid mail-coach adventures in future, he would post it back to Ballytrain as quietly, and with as little observation as possible.

He accordingly ordered Dandy to make such slight preparations as were necessary for their return to that town, and in the meantime he determined to pay another visit to old Dunphy of Constitution Hill.

On arriving at the huckster’s, he found him in the backroom, or parlor, to which we have before alluded.  The old man’s manner was, he thought, considerably changed for the better.  He received him with more complacency, and seemed as if he felt something like regret for the harshness of his manner toward him during his first visit.

“Well, sir,” said he, “is it fair to ask you, how you have got on in ferritin’ out this black business?”

There are some words so completely low and offensive in their own nature, that no matter how kind and honest the intention of the speaker may be, they are certain to vex and annoy those to whom they are applied.

“Ferreting out!” thought the stranger—­“what does the old scoundrel mean?” Yet, on second consideration, he could not for the soul of him avoid admitting that, considering the nature of the task he was engaged in, it was by no means an inappropriate illustration.

“No,” said he, “we have made no progress, but we still trust that you will enable us to advance a step.  I have already told you that we only wish to come at the principals.  Their mere instruments we overlook.  You seem to be a poor man—­but listen to me—­if you can give us any assistance in this affair, you shall be an independent one during the remainder of your life.  Provided murder has not been committed I guarantee perfect safety to any person who may have only acted under the orders of a superior.”