Whether in that first instant I was more disappointed or relieved, I should be afraid to say, but as soon as I had had a few seconds to think, my one feeling was disgust that the fellow had given me the slip. I took to my heels and ran along that wall first in one direction and then in the other, but there was not a sign of a living creature. And the sickening thing was that by this time he might have done one of several things--headed away from the shore at top speed as soon as he ceased firing, in which case he would be far enough by now, or lain down in one of the several fields of corn near by, or crossed the wall further along and hidden among the rocks; and it was quite impossible to guess which. I pondered over the problem for a few moments and then decided that as it was perfectly hopeless to search the corn or the beach I would risk it and hasten inland on the off chance of getting a clue, so I chose a grass field and set off across it at a trot. The ground rose for about fifty yards and then fell sharply, and as I topped this rise I came right on to a familiar figure. It was my friend Jock and he seemed unusually excited; almost, in fact, intelligent. "Stranger!" he gabbled, pointing in the direction I was going. "Jock seen stranger!" I followed his dirty finger and a couple of hundred yards or so ahead I spied a figure strolling along a by road, rather ostentatiously strolling, it seemed to me. "Thank you, Jock," said I, "you're a good man! Here's your half crown!" I dropped to a walk now and by the time the stranger and I met I think I looked about as cool as he did. It was Mr. O'Brien, as I had guessed at the first glance. "Been for a walk?" he enquired. "Having a stroll along the shore," said I. He started a little and looked at me hard. "Hullo!" said he, "I could have sworn you talked like a foreigner the last and first time I had the honour of meeting you. Were we both sober, do you think?" I in turn looked at the man keenly. If his surprise was not genuine, it was as good a bit of acting as I ever saw, on or off the stage, and it was exactly the most disarming thing he could possibly say. Indeed it turned the tables on me completely and it was I who was now left in the position of having something awkward to explain away. "It must have been the weather," I said lightly, "I'm never drunk before lunch;" "And be damned if I get the chance at any time of day! You've heard of my sad complaint, eh?" "No," said I, "I'm afraid I haven't. Nothing infectious?" He gave one of his unpleasant hoots of laughter. "Lord, you think I'm a respectable member of society then? Good for you, keep on thinking it--but you'll have to keep away from my friends!" "It takes me all my time to keep clear of my own," said I. His narrow eyes seemed to approve of me. "You're not Irish?" he enquired. "No; I've enough to answer for without that."