y a--crime, but a crime connected with some
mysterious motive, beyond their power to detect.

But of all who became acquainted with the outrage, not one sympathized
more sincerely and deeply with O'Brien's family than did Connor
O'Donovan; although, of course, that sympathy was unknown to those for
whom it was felt. The fact was, that his own happiness became, in some
degree, involved in their calamity; and, as he came in to breakfast on
the fourth morning of its occurrence, he could not help observing as
much to his mother. His suspicions of Flanagan, as to possessing some
clue to the melancholy business, were by no means removed. On the
contrary, he felt that he ought to have him brought before the bench of
magistrates who were conducting the investigation from day to day, and,
with this determination, he himself resolved to state fully and
candidly to the bench, all the hints which had transpired from Flanagan
respecting the denunciations said to be held out against O'Brien and
the causes assigned for them. Breakfast was now ready, and Fardorougha
himself entered, uttering petulant charges of neglect and idleness
against his servant.

"He desarves no breakfast," said he; "not a morsel; it's robbin' me by
his idleness and schaming he is. What is he doin', Connor? or what has
become of him? He's not in the field nor about the place."

Connor paused.

"Why, now that I think of it, I didn't see him to-day," he replied; "I
thought that he was mendin' the slap at the Three-Acres. I'll thry if
he's in the barn."

And he went accordingly to find him. "I'm afraid, father," said he, on
his return, "that Bartle's a bad boy, an' a dangerous one; he's not in
the barn, an' it appears, from the bed, that he didn't sleep there last
night. The truth is, he's gone; at laste he has brought all his clothes,
his box, an' everything with him; an' what's more, I suspect the reason
of it; he thinks he has let out too much to me; an' it 'ill go hard but
I'll make him let out more."

The servant-maid, Biddy, now entered and informed them that four men,
evidently strangers, were approaching the house from the rear, and ere
she could add anything further on the subject, two of them walked in,
and, seizing Connor, informed him that he was their prisoner.

"Your prisoner!" exclaimed his mother, getting pale; "why, what could
our poor boy do to make him your prisoner? He never did hurt or harm to
the child unborn."

Fardorougha's keen gr