the dead agent's fixed and glassy eyes staring the
frightful stare of death straight at him--lay cowld and still!

The sound of the futsteps came nearer and nearer. I started at my best
speed for home. When I stepped into the house, the children had been
put to bed, but the ould people were still talking by the dim light of
the nearly burnt-out turf fire. I wished them good-night, plading
fataigue, and reached my small room without their having an opportunity
of noticing the state of alarm and agitation I was in.

The next day was an awful one for me. The violent death of the
middleman was in every one's mouth; but it was some relief to find no
mention was made of the finding the corpse of poor O'Rourke.

I concluded the footsteps we had both heard were those of some of his
associates, and that they had carried off and concealed his body.

I fulfilled O'Rourke's wishes to the best of my power; saw Mary Sheean
safe on boord ship, put her in the care of a dacent, middle-aged
countrywoman of her own--and as I was assuring her, in O'Rourke's words,
that he would soon join her, all I had to say was cut short by the
arrival of a parcel of peelers on boord, and the rason of their coming
was the assassination of the agent had been discovered. O'Rourke was
missing, and so suspicion fell on him--and there was a reward of two
hundred pounds offered for him. It was thought possible he might be on
boord the _George Washington_, and they had come, with a full
description of his person, to sarch the ship.

The passengers--and it was a tadeous job--were all paraded--over three
hundred in the steerage, let alone the cabin and the crew--every part of
the ship was overhauled, but, as may naturally be supposed, no Miles
O'Rourke was found.

I need scarcely tell yez, boys, what a relief that was to pretty Mary
Sheean and myself.

When the police-officers had left the _George Washington_, she beckoned
me to her, and whispered, "Thanks be to the Lord he was not on boord!
though I know he would never take any man's life; still, as he was out
that night, it would have gone hard wid him. But, never fear, he'll
come by the next ship; and so I'll wait and watch for him at New York.
There's his box--take care of it for him till we get there; and see,
here's the kay--mind that, too; maybe I'd lose it."

I hadn't the heart to undecaive her, so I answered her as cheerfully as
I could, put the kay in my pocket and the box in my locker, a