eeping that fellow so late? If we
had not especially wanted him, he would have been here two hours ago."

"Perhaps," suggested Mr. Sutherland, "he may have found the coachman
more communicative than he anticipated."

"He has doubtless struck some clue which he is following," was the
reply; but at that instant there was a light tap at the door, and the
man generally known as the English barrister's "clerk" entered.

"Well, Mac," said Mr. Barton, cheerfully, "'speak of the devil'--you
know what follows! What luck to-night?"

"Very fair, sir," said the man, quietly taking in the situation at
a glance, as he noted the eager, expectant faces of the four men,
and, dropping into a chair near the group, he instantly assumed an
attitude of close attention.

Ordinarily, McCabe was, as Mr. Whitney had remarked, rather an
insignificant looking man. He was below medium stature and somewhat
dull in appearance, owing to the fact that he seemed to take little
interest in his surroundings, while his face, when his eyes were
concealed, as was generally the case, by the heavily drooping lids
and long eyelashes, was absolutely expressionless. When, however,
he raised his eyes and fixed them upon any one, the effect was much
the same as though a search-light suddenly flashed in one's face;
but this was only upon rare occasions, and few casual observers
would dream of the keen perceptive faculties hidden beneath that
quiet exterior.

"Tell us your story first, Mac," said Mr. Barton, after a moment's
silence, thoroughly understanding his man, "ours will keep for a
little bit."

"There's not much to tell, sir."

"How are you and the coachman coming on?"

"We'll not be very intimate after to-night, I'm thinking."

"How is that?" questioned the attorney, at the same time smiling
broadly at his companions.

"Well, sir, there'll be no call for it, for one thing, as I've got
all the points in the case I wanted; and for another, his chief
returned this evening, and, from the few words I overheard upon
his arrival, I don't think the coachman will feel over-confidential
the next time he sees me," and McCabe smiled grimly to himself.

"So Merrick is back!" interposed Mr. Sutherland, laughing. "Did
you and he meet?"

"Meet, sir? Ah, no, not much o' that! I heard a step coming up
the stairs, and as I thought the room was hardly big enough for
three, I excused myself to Mr. Jim Matheson--alias Matthews, the
coachman--and made for