“What can he want with him, do you think?” asked Mrs. Dalton.

“Dear knows—­fifty things—­maybe to stand for one of his childhre—­or—­but, ah! forgive me—­I could be merry anywhere else; but here—­here—­forgive me, Mrs. Dalton.”

In a short time Dalton and he mounted a car which Toddy had brought with him, and started for the office of Mr. Travers.

While they are on their way, we shall return to our friend, young Dick, who was left to trudge home from the Grey Stone on the night set apart for the abduction of Mave Sullivan.  Hanlon, or Magennis, as we ought now to call him, having by his shrewdness, and Rody Duncan’s loose manner of talking, succeeded in preventing the burglarious attack upon his master’s house, was a good deal surprised at young Dick’s quick return, for he had not expected him at all that night.  The appearance of the young gentleman was calculated to excite impressions of rather a serio-comic character.

“Hanlon,” said he, “is all right?—­every man at his post?”

“All right, sir; but I did not expect you back so soon.  Whatever you’ve been engaged on to-night is a saicret you’ve kep’ me out of.”

“D—­e, I was afraid of you, Hanlon—­you were too honest for what I was about to-night.  You wouldn’t have stood it—­I probed you on it once before, and you winced.”

“Well, sir, I assure you I don’t wish to know what it is.”

“Why, as the whole thing has failed there, can be no great secret in it now.  The old Prophet hoaxed me cursedly to-night.  It was arranged between us that he should carry off Sullivan’s handsome daughter for me—­and what does the mercenary old scoundrel do but put his own in her place, with a view of imposing her on me.”

“Faith, an’ of the two she is thought to be the finest an’ handsomest girl; but, my God! how could he do what you say, an’ his daughter sick o’ the typhus?”

“There’s some d—­d puzzle about it, I grant—­he seemed puzzled—­his daughter-seemed sick, sure enough—­and I am sick.  Hanlon, I fear I’ve caught the typhus from her—­I can think of nothing else.”

“Go to bed, sir; I tould you as you went out that you had taken rather too much.  You’ve been disappointed, an’ you’re vexed;—­that’s what ails you; but go to bed, an’ you’ll sleep it off.”

“Yes, I must.  In a day or two it’s arranged that I and Travers are to settle about the leases, and I must meet that worthy gentleman with a clear head.”

“Is Darby Skinadre, sir, to have Dalton’s farm?”

“Why, I’ve pocketed a hundred of his money for it, an’ I think he ought.  However, all this part of the property is out of lease, and you know we can neither do nor say anything till we get the new leases.”

“Oh, yes, you can, sir,” replied Hanlon, laughing; “it’s clear you can do at any rate.”

“How is that?  What do you grin at, confound you?”

“You can take the money, sir; that’s what I mane by doin’ him.  Ha, ha, ha!”