treet, and totally unconscious of the notice he
was attracting.

"What's that building yonder?" cried he, to the waiter at his side, and
his accent, as he spoke, betrayed a foreign tongue. "The Town Hall!--ah,
to be sure, I remember it now; and, if I be not much mistaken, there
is----at least there was--an old rickety stair to a great loft overhead,
where a strange fellow lived, who made masks for the theatre--what's
this his name was?" The bystanders listened to these reminiscences in
silent astonishment, but unable to supply the missing clew to memory.
"Are none of you old enough to remember Jack Ruth, the huntsman?" cried
he, aloud.

"I have heard my father talk of him," said a middle-aged man, "if it was
the same that galloped down the mountain of Corrig-O'Neal and swam the
river at the foot of it."

"The very man," broke in the stranger. "Two of the dogs, but not a
man, dared to follow! I have seen some bold feats since that day, but I
scarcely think I have ever witnessed a more dashing exploit. If old Jack
has left any of his name and race behind him," said he, turning to the
waiter, "say that there's one here would like to see him;" and with this
he re-entered the inn.

"Who is this gentleman that knows the country so well?" asked the
priest..

"Count Dalton von Auersberg, sir," replied the courier. "His whole
thoughts are about Ireland now, though I believe he has not been here
for upwards of sixty years."

"Dalton!" muttered the priest to himself; "what can have brought them to
Ireland? D'Esmonde must be told of this at once!" And he pushed through
the crowd and hastened back to the little inn.

The Abbe was engaged in writing as Cahill entered the room.

"Have you seen him, Michel?" cried he, eagerly, as he raised his head'
from the table.

"No. Admission is strictly denied--"

"I thought it would be so--I suspected what the game would be. This
Grounsell means to turn the tables, and practise upon _us_ the menace
that was meant for _him_. I foresee all that he intends, but I'll foil
him! I have written here to Wallace, the Queen's Counsel, to come down
here at once. This charge against old Dalton, in hands like his, may
become a most formidable accusation."

"I have not told you that these Daltons have arrived here--"

"What! Of whom do you speak?"

"The old Count von Dalton, with a niece and nephew."

D'Esmonde sprang from his seat, stood for some seconds, stood still and
silent.

"This i