Hugh O'Donnell gazed at him with some surprise, for he recollected him well as the French officer who had visited the sign of the "Swan" on the preceding evening; but he was a cautious man, notwithstanding his Milesian blood, long accustomed to deal with somewhat dangerous affairs, and well aware that the most indiscreet of all passions is surprise; and therefore, without appearing to recognise his visiter, he said, "If our conversation is to be at all long, sir, it had better be within doors than without." "It may be long," replied Barecolt, drily; "and yet it cannot be very long, for I have not too much time to spare; but, whether long or short, it had better be where we can have no eaves-droppers, Mr. O'Donnell; and so we will walk in." Barecolt followed him to the house, where a clean and respectable old woman-servant was seen sanding the floor of a parlour, the boards of which were scrubbed to a marvellous whiteness, though the walls, to say the truth, were somewhat dingy, and a strong flavour of tobacco smoke rather detracted from the purity of the air. That odour, however, was no objection to the nose of Captain Barecolt, who cast himself into a chair, while the master of the mansion sent away the servant and closed the door. As soon as this process was complete, the worthy captain fixed his eyes upon Mr. O'Donnell, and demanded, "You recollect me, of course, sir?" "I think I have seen your face somewhere," replied the Irishman; "but, Lord love you! I never recollect anything after it is over. It's better not, sir. I make life a ready-money business, and keep neither receipts nor bills." "Quite right, Mr. O'Donnell," replied Captain Barecolt; "but yet I think I must get you to draw a draft upon the past. That word or two from Mrs. White will tell you what it is about;" and he handed his companion across the little round oaken table a small bit of paper. O'Donnell took it, read the contents, and then mused for a minute or two, tapping the table with his fingers. "Well, sir," he said, at length, "what is it you want to know?" "All that you can tell me about the young lady whom they call Arrah Neil." "Oh, sir, I will tell you all I know about her in a minute," replied the other; "he is now at the 'Swan,' Mrs. White's own house, under the care--or, if you like it better, in the hands of a very reverend gentleman called Master Dry of Longsoaken." "That won't do, Mr. O'Donnell--that won't do," exclaimed Barecolt. "What I want to know is about the past--not the present--of which I know more than you do, Mr. O'Donnell." "I never seek to know anything of other people's business," replied O'Donnell, drily. "I have enough to do to attend to my own." "Which is the supplying Roman Catholic gentry with salt fish for fast days, together with beads, missals, crucifixes, and other little trinkets for private use," answered Barecolt, who had been using his eyes and forming his own conclusions from numerous indications apparently trifling.