"Precisely. You have not for some months past heard much of Mr. Lavirotte, have you?" "Absolutely nothing, except your telegram. Has he been ill all that time?" "No. He was not taken ill until a few hours before I sent that message to London." "What is the nature of his illness?" "He received an injury in a mysterious way, in a quarrel with another man, and neither he nor the other man will say anything about the quarrel, or the cause of it. But, of course, as in all cases of this kind, there is a general notion of what it was about. People say that jealousy led to it." "Jealousy of Miss Harrington? I did not understand there was any likelihood of his being jealous of her." "Nor is he, as far as rumour goes. The facts are that he attacked a young man in this place, and, after stabbing the young man, was rendered insensible himself, no one knows how." "Stabbing!" exclaimed the old man with horror. "Are you sure of that!" "There is no evidence he did. There is no doubt he did." "I am old," said Mr. Crawford, "and have lived a long time out of the ways of the world. I am slow, and do not understand. Out of pity to my infirmities, be simple with me. I know something very unpleasant is coming. Let me hear it at once." The two men had now reached the roadway that ran inside the storm wall. "It will rest you, sir, if we stand here and lean upon the wall. I will tell you everything I know in a few words. "The prettiest girl in this neighbourhood is a Miss Creagh. She is now in my house. One of the finest young fellows within twenty miles is Mr. Eugene O'Donnell. He is now lying in my house. He is the man Lavirotte stabbed. They were bosom friends. The story goes that about two months ago Lavirotte made love to Miss Creagh and was rejected. A little later O'Donnell made love, and was accepted. The wedding was to be in about a month, and to prevent it Lavirotte tried to murder young O'Donnell." "Good God!" said the old man, "what a dreadful story, and what a scoundrel he must be! It is the most horrible thing that ever came near me in all my life." "It is very bad, sir, indeed. You will now, sir, understand why I wished to speak to you alone. Shall we go back? I left orders that no one was to enter the private room, so that you can act now as you think best, and be quite certain that the young lady knows nothing of this most miserable affair. It is only right you should know that young O'Donnell is also doing very well, and no fears are felt about his recovery." In perfect silence the two men walked back to the hotel. CHAPTER XXIII.