“I know,” he exclaimed, “that resemblances are often deceitful, and not to be depended upon. In this case, however, there is scarcely a trace that could constitute any particular peculiarity--a peculiarity which, if it existed, would strengthen--I know not whether to say--my suspicions or my hopes. The early disappearance of that poor boy, without the existence of a single vestige by which he could be traced, resembles one of those mysteries that are found only in romances. The general opinion is, that he has been made away with, and is long dead; yet of late, a different impression has gone abroad, although we know not exactly how it has originated.” He then paced, with a countenance of gloom, uncertainty, and deep anxiety, through the room, and after a little time, proceeded: “I shall, at all events, enter into conversation with this person, after which I will make inquiries concerning the gentry and nobility of the neighborhood when I think I shall be able to observe whether he will pass the Gourlay family over, or betray any consciousness of a particular knowledge of their past or present circumstances. 'Tis true, he may overreach me; but if he does, I cannot help it. Yet, after all,” he proceeded, “if he should prove to be the person I seek, everything may go well; I certainly observed faint traces of an honorable feeling about him when I gave him the money, which, notwithstanding his indigence and dissipation, he for a time refused to take.” He then resumed his seat, and seemed once more buried in thought and abstraction. Our friend Paudeen was not long in finding the unfortunate object of the stranger's contemplation and interest. On meeting him, he perceived that he was slightly affected with liquor, as indeed was the case generally whenever he could procure it. “Misther Fenton,” said Paudeen, “there's a daicent person in our house that wishes to see you.” “Who do you call a decent person, you bog-trotting Ganymede.” replied the other. “Why, a daicent tradesman, I think, from--thin sorra one of me knows whether I ought to say from Dublin or London.” “What trade, Ganymede?” “Troth, that's more than I can tell; but I know that he wants you, for he sent me to bring you to him.” “Well, Ganymede, I shall see your tradesman,” he replied. “Come, I shall go to him.” On reaching the inn, Paudeen, in order to discharge the commission intrusted to him fully, ushered Fenton upstairs, and into the stranger's sitting-room. “What's this,” exclaimed Fenton. “Why, you have brought me to the wrong room, you blundering villain. I thought you were conducting me to some worthy tradesman. You have mistaken the room, you blockhead; this is a gentleman. How do you do, sir? I hope you will excuse this intrusion; it is quite unintentional on my part; yet I am glad to see you.” “There is no mistake at all in it,” replied the other, laughing. “That will do, Paudeen,” he added, “thank you.”