But he did not leave the station till he caught a glimpse of Byrne as he stood at the refreshment counter waiting for his travelling flask to be filled. But the Peter Byrne whom he now saw was a very different person from the decrepit, deaf old invalid of Spur Alley, The long white locks, the black velvet skull-cap, the hump on the left shoulder, and the feeble walk, had all disappeared in the cab, as if by magic, leaving behind them a brisk, pleasant-looking gentleman of middle age, who was speaking with the young person that was waiting upon him, and who seemed to have no difficulty whatever in hearing her replies. "I thought as much," said Pringle, with a knowing shake of the head. "It's no more than I expected. I've known all along that the old boy and his daughter were up to some private little game of their own. Well, so long as it means no good to Van Duren and no harm to me, I'm not the man to spoil their sport. But what will Van Duren say when he gets back home and finds his birds flown? It don't matter: I hope to have flown too by that time." END OF VOL. II. ______________________________________________ BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD, SURREY.