“Yes, your honor; he is half-mad, or whole mad, as a good many people think.”

“I am told he is fond of liquor.”

“He is seldom sober, Sir Thomas.”

“Will you go into Ballytrain, and try to see him?  But first see the butler, and desire him, by my orders, to give you a bottle of whiskey.  I don’t mean this moment, sirra,” he said, for Gillespie was proceeding to take him instantly at his word.

“Listen, sir.  See Fenton—­lure him as quietly and secretly as you can out of town—­bring him into some remote nook—­”

“Sir Thomas, I beg your pardon,” exclaimed Gillespie, getting pale; “if you mean that I should—­”

“Silence, sir,” replied the baronet, in his sternest and deepest voice; “hear me; bring him, if you can, to some quiet place, where you will both be free from observation; then produce your bottle and glass, and ply him with liquor until you have him drunk.”

“It’s very likely that I’ll find him drunk as it is, sir; he is seldom otherwise.”

“So much the better; you will have the less trouble.  Well, when you have him sufficiently drunk, bring him to the back gate of the garden, which you will find unlocked; lodge him in the tool-house, ply him with more liquor, until he becomes helpless.  In the meantime, lock the back gate after you—­here is the key, which you can keep in your pocket.  Having left him in the tool-house—­in a sufficiently helpless state, mark—­lock him in, put that key in your pocket, also; then get my travelling carriage ready, put to the horses, and when all this is done, come to me here; I shall then instruct you how and where to proceed.  I shall also accompany you myself to the town of ------, after which you shall take a post-chaise, and proceed with this person to the place of his destination.  Let none of the servants see you; and remember we are not to start from the garden gate until about twelve o’clock, or later.”

Gillespie promised compliance, and, in fact, undertook the business with the greater alacrity, on hearing that there was to be a bottle of whiskey in the case.  As he was leaving the room, however, Sir Thomas called him back, and said, with a frown which nobody could misunderstand, “Harkee, Gillespie, keep yourself strictly sober, and—­oh yes, I had nearly forgotten it—­try if there is a hard scar, as if left by a wound, under his chin, to the left side; and if you find none, have nothing to do with him.  You understand, now, all I require of you?”

“Perfectly, your honor.  But I may not be able to find this Fenton.”

“That won’t be your own fault, you must only try another time, when you may have better success.  Observe, however, that if there is no scar under the left side of his chin, you are to let him pass—­he is not the person in whom I feel interested, and whom I am determined to serve, if I can—­even against his wishes.  He is, I believe, the son of an old friend, and I will endeavor to have him restored to the perfect use of his reason, if human skill can effect it.”