'I'll carry them myself, Mrs. Barnes,' said Wogan, interrupting her. He picked up the letters from the table, and glanced about the room, if by chance Mr. Kelly had left anything inconvenient behind him. But, except the letters, there was not so much as a scrap of paper about to show that ever he had lodged there. Wogan looked at the scrutoire on which the strong-box he had given to his friend at Paris was used to rest. It had held Lady Oxford's letters in the old days, but of late it had lain unused, and the dust had gathered thick upon the lid, so that in his haste the Parson might well have forgotten it. But he had carried it away, and with it his big Bible, which had stood beside it in such an incongruous juxtaposition. 'I'll carry them myself,' said Wogan, and putting the letters in his pocket he went down the steps. He marched some twenty yards down the street and then came to a stop. He looked round. Mrs. Barnes was watching him from the doorway with as grim a smile as her cheery face could compass. 'But, my dear woman, where will I carry them to? 'asks Wogan, coming back. 'That's it,' cried she with a triumphant toss of her head. 'One minute Mrs. Barnes is a tattling, troublesome woman, and, if you please, we'll not take so much trouble as to say good-bye to her, and the next it's Mrs. Barnes that must help us, and tell us where we are to go. Mr. Johnson lodges at Mrs. Kilburne's in Ryder Street.' 'Mrs. Kilburne's! Why, she's your bosom friend, Mrs. Barnes.' Mr. Wogan was a trifle surprised that the Parson should leave Mrs. Barnes because of her curiosity and take a lodging with Mrs. Barnes's bosom friend, who, to tell the truth, was no less of a gossip. 'Well,' said Mrs. Barnes, firing up. 'D'ye think I would let him go to those I know nothing of, who would rob him and starve him of his last crust of bread. No, for all that he scorns and despises me! No, he asked me where he should go and I told him to Mrs. Kilburne.' 'Oh, he asked you,' said Wogan. 'Well, it is a very Irish proceeding. I'll go to Mrs. Kilburne's and find him.' 'You may go to Mrs. Kilburne,' said she as Wogan turned away, 'but as to finding him,' and she shrugged her shoulders. 'Why, what do you mean?' 'A man in that moppet's livery, for moppet she is, my Lady or not my Lady, brought a note yesterday and he that had been hiding from her, like the honest man he used to be before she came trapesing after him.' 'A note? Was it anything like this?' asked Wogan, pulling from his pocket his own invitation to Lady Oxford's rout. 'It was very like that,' said Mrs. Barnes. 'I sent the fellow on with the scented thing.'