on account
of his letther altogether that I do it; but bekaise I think the time's
come, or rather soon will be come. Oh, here," he said, "is the ould
woman, and she'll keep the shop. Now, sir, come upstairs, if you plaise,
for what we're goin' to talk about is what the very stones oughtn't to
hear so long as that man--"

He paused, and instantly checked himself, as if he felt that he had
already gone too far.

"Now, sir," he proceeded, "what is it you expect from me? Name it at
wanst."

"You are aware," said the stranger, "that the son of the late Sir Edward
Gourlay, and the heir of his property, disappeared very mysteriously and
suspiciously--"

"And so did the son of the present man," replied Dunphy, eying the
stranger keenly.

"It is not of him I am speaking," replied the other; "although at the
same time I must say, that if I could find a trace even of him I would
leave no stone unturned to recover him."

The old man looked into the floor, and mused for some time.

"It was a strange business," he observed, "that both should go--you
may take my word, there has been mischief and revenge, or both, at the
bottom of the same business."

"The worthy priest, whose letter I presented to you to-day, led me to
suppose, that if any man could put me in a capacity to throw light upon
it you could."

"He didn't say, surely, that I could throw light upon it--did he?"

"No, certainly not--but that if any man could, you are that man."

"Ay, ay," replied old Dunphy; "all bekaise he thinks I have a regard for
the Gourlays. That's what makes him suppose that I know anything about
the business; just as if I was in the saicrets of the family. I may have
suspicions like other people; but that's all."

"Can you throw out no hint, or give no clew, that might aid me in the
recovery of this unhappy young man, if he be alive?"

"You did well to add that, for who can tell whether he is or not?--maybe
it's only thrashing the water you are, after all."

The stranger saw the old fellow had once more grown cautious, and
avoided giving a direct reply to him; but on considering the matter, he
was, after all, not much surprised at this. The subject involved a black
and heinous crime, and if it so happened that Dunphy could in any way
have been implicated in or connected with it, even indirectly, it would
be almost unreasonable to expect that he should now become his own
accuser. Still the stranger could observe that in spite of all h