This was quite sufficient, and ere the lapse of twenty minutes Father M'Mahon, accompanied by Skipton and another officer, found himself at the baronet's hall-door. On entering the hall, Sir Thomas himself was in the act of passing from the breakfast parlor to his study above stairs, leaning upon the arm of Gibson, the footman, looking at the same time pale, nervous, and unsteady upon his limbs. The moment Skipton saw him, he started, and exclaimed, as if to himself, but loud enough for the priest to hear him: “'Gad! I've seen him before, once upon a time; and well I remember the face, for it is not one to be forgotten.” The baronet, on looking round, saw the priest, and desired him to follow them to his study. “I beg your pardon, Sir Thomas,” said the officer, “we now place his reverence safely in your hands; here, too, is your pocket-book and pistols.” “Hand them to him, sir,” replied the baronet, nodding toward the priest; “and that is enough.” “But, Sir Thomas--” “What is it, sir? Have you not done your duty?” “I hope so, sir; but if it would not be troublesome, sir, perhaps you would give us a receipt; an acknowledgment, sir.” “For what?” “For the priest's body, sir, in the first place, and then for the pocket-book and pistols.” “If I were a little stronger,” replied the baronet, in an angry voice, “I would write the receipt upon your own body with a strong horsewhip; begone, you impudent scoundrel!” Skipton turned upon him a bitter and vindictive look, and replied, “Oh, very well, sir--come, Tom, you are witness that I did my duty.” Sir Thomas on entering the study threw himself listlessly on a sofa, and desired Gibson to retire. “Take a seat, sir,” said he, addressing Father M'Mahon. “I am far from well, and must rest a little before I speak to you; I know not what is the matter with me, but I feel all out of sorts.” He then drew a long breath, and laid his head upon his hand, as if to recover more clearly the powers of his mind and intellect. His eyes, full of thought not unmingled with anxiety, were fixed upon the carpet, and he seemed for a time wrapped in deep and painful abstraction. At length he raised himself up, and drawing his breath apparently with more freedom began the conversation. “Well, sir,” said he, in a tone that implied more of authority and haughtiness than of courtesy or gentlemanly feeling; “it seems the property of which I have been robbed has come into your possession.” “It is true, sir; and allow me to place it in your own hands exactly as I got it. I took the precaution to seal the pocket-book the moment it was returned to me, and although it was for a short time in possession of the officers of justice, yet it is untouched, and the seal I placed on it unbroken.”