"Odd, too," said Jack, languidly, puffing out a long stream of smoke; "don't see how you recognized her--thought you didn't remember and all that. So you've found her at last, have you? Well, my dear fellow, 'low me to congratulate you. Deuced queer, too. By-the-way, what did you say her name was?" "I didn't mention her name," said I. "Ah, I see; a secret?" "Oh, no. I didn't suppose you'd care about knowing." "Bosh! Course I'd care. What was it, old boy? Tell a fellow. I'll keep dark--you know me." "Her name," said I, "is Miss O'Halloran." No sooner had I uttered that name, than an instantaneous and most astonishing change came over the whole face, the whole air, the whole manner, the whole expression, the whole attitude, of Jack Randolph. He sprang up to his feet, as though he had been shot, and the pipe fell from his hands on the floor, where it lay smashed. "WHAT!!!" he cried, in a loud voice. "Look here," said I--"what may be the meaning of all that? What's the row now?" "What name did you say?" he repeated. "Miss O'Halloran," said I. "O'Halloran?" said he--"are you sure?" "Of course, I'm sure. How can I be mistaken?" "And her father--what sort of man is he?" "A fine old felloe," said I--"full of fun, well informed, convivial, age about sixty, well preserved, splendid face--" "Is--is he an Irishman?" asked Jack, with deep emotion. "Yes." "Does--does he live in--in Queen Street?" asked Jack, with gasp. "The very street," said I. "Number seven hundred and ninety-nine?" "The very number. But see here, old chap, how the mischief do you happen to know exactly all about that house? It strikes me as being deuced odd." "And you saved her?" said Jack, without taking any notice of my question. "Haven't I just told you so? Oh, bother! What's the use of all this fuss?" "Miss O'Halloran?" said Jack. "Miss O'Halloran," I repeated. "But will you allow me to ask what in the name of common-sense is the matter with you? Is there a bee in your bonnet, man? What's Miss O'Halloran to you, or you to Miss O'Halloran? Haven't you got enough women on your conscience already? Do you mean to drag her in? Don't try it my boy--for I'm concerned there." "Miss O'Halloran!" cried Jack. "Look here, Macrorie--you'd better take care." "Take care?" "Yes. Don't you go humbugging about there." "I don't know what you're up to, dear boy. What's your little joke?" "There's no joke at all about it," said Jack, harshly. "Do you know who Miss O'Halloran is?" "Well, I know that she's the daughter of Mr. O'Halloran, and that he's a fine old fellow. Any further information, however, I shall be delighted to receive. You talk as though you know something about her. What is it? But don't slander. Not a word against her. That won't stand." "Slander! A word against her!" cried Jack. "Macrorie, you don't know who she is, or what she is to me. Macrorie, this miss O'Halloran is that lady that we have been calling 'Number Three'."