"Maybe so," was the cautious reply. "I thought, of course, it was a dream; but then,--where the d--l are the breeches?" The question was more easily asked than answered. Barney renewed his search, while the lieutenant folded his arms, and, leaning against the toilet, sunk into a reverie. "After all, it must be some trick of my laughter-loving cousins," said Seaforth. "Ah! then, the ladies!" chimed in Mr. Maguire, though the observation was not addressed to him; "and will it be Miss Caroline, or Miss Margaret, that's stole your honour's things?" "I hardly know what to think of it," pursued the bereaved lieutenant, still speaking in soliloquy, with his eye resting dubiously on the chamber door. "I locked myself in, that's certain; and--but there must be some other entrance to the room--pooh! I remember--the private staircase: how could I be such a fool?" and he crossed the chamber to where a low oaken door-case was dimly visible in a distant corner. He paused before it. Nothing now interfered to screen it from observation; but it bore tokens of having been at some earlier period concealed by tapestry, remains of which yet clothed the walls on either side the portal. "This way they must have come," said Seaforth; "I wish with all my heart I had caught them!" "Och! the kittens!" sighed Mr. Barney Maguire. But the mystery was yet as far from being solved as before. True, there _was_ the "other door;" but then that, too, on examination, was even more firmly secured than the one which opened on the gallery,--two heavy bolts on the inside effectually prevented any _coup de main_ on the lieutenant's _bivouac_ from that quarter. He was more puzzled than ever; nor did the minutest inspection of the walls and floor throw any light upon the subject: one thing only was clear,--the breeches were gone! "It is _very_ singular," said the lieutenant. * * * * *