“I’m not wishful to get you in trouble, Patsy,” said Con, “it’s not that I’m after; so I’ll just be walkin’ beside you on the way to Castle Knock, and I’ll give you the slip before we catch sight of the village, for there’s a policeman there I’m not wishful to meet, and it’s livin’ in an old tree I am to keep out of his way. What I want to ask you is, when are the quality comin’ to the Big House?” “They’re comin’ before Chris’mas,” replied Patsy. “Lords and ladies and horses and bishop and all.” “And who’s staying at the Big House now?” “Old Lady Seagrave and her gran’childer,” replied Patsy, as he trotted beside his uncle. “And how many gran’childer has the old lady?” asked Con. “Three,” replied Patsy. “There’s the little lord; he wears putty leggin’s and a shootin’ coat an’ all, and he only nine; and there’s Miss Doris, wid the long gold hair, and she’s eight; then there’s Selina.” “What’s that?” asked Con. “Selina.” “And what the divil’s Selina?” “The baby; leastways, they call her the baby. Selina’s her name, and she’s five; she gets in the coal-scuttle when she has the chanst, she’s that small and over-bould. Biddy Mahony is their nurse, and she told me all about them. They eats off china, wid silver forks.” “Silver forks, did you say?” asked Con. “Yes, and spoons.” “Patsy.” “Yes?” “It’s thrubled with thinkin’ I am.” “And what are you thinkin’ about?” asked Patsy anxiously. “I was thinkin’,” replied Con, “that if you were inside the Big House and I was outside you might maybe hand me out wan or two, or maybe three, of thim silver spoons and forks.” “But, sure, that would be stealin’,” said Patsy. “Who said it wouldn’t?” answered Con. There was no reply to be made to this, so they trudged along in silence. They had not gone more than two hundred yards when Con left the drive and turned down a path to the right. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER V THE MAN IN THE TREE “Sure, this isn’t the way to Castle Knock!” cried Patsy, drawing back. “And who said it was?” replied Con, seizing him by the hand. “Is it geography you’d be teachin’ me, or what ails you at all, at all? Come on wid you now, or it’s the knock without the castle you’ll be getting in a minit.” “Uncle Con,” said Patsy, when they had gone some distance, “where are you taking me?” “Come along and you’ll see,” replied Con. A moment later, to the boy’s relief, Con struck into a path to the left, and they found themselves in a little glade in the centre of which stood the remains of a great oak. “Here we are,” said Con; “I’ve brought you to see Paddy Murphy, who’s hidin’ from the police.” All the branches of the oak were gone and just ten feet of the bole remained, and it looked like a great stilton cheese the centre of which has been scooped out and eaten. “Are you there?” cried Con, halting about ten paces from the oak.