That night there was an interesting group gathered in Pat Hester’s parlor. The center lamp shone on the principal characters, bringing them out in bold relief. Donahue sat in a big arm-chair, asleep. Whisky had at last overpowered the redoubtable relative of “Yellow Jack,” and he slept, his head hanging to one side, and occasionally starting up to show that he still lived, and to save his neck from entire dislocation. Pat Hester and his wife—the latter somewhat advanced in years, yet spruce as a sunflower and as lively as a cricket—were opponents in a game of euchre; the lady having McKenna as a partner, while Pat played with his oldest son. One of the Misses Hester was busy sewing, and the other—the younger, and McKenna’s particular affinity—sat at his elbow, telling him how to marshal his cards in order to defeat her respected father and brother at the game. She was bright and interesting, and no fault can be found with the detective if he permitted his eyes to wander occasionally from his hand to gaze into the blue depths of those of the lady at his side. Knowing Pat Hester, as he did, there was no danger that he would allow himself to go too far in his wooing. Indeed, there chanced to be a charming girl living over at Tamaqua, that he had met at the Polish wedding, and on whom much of his thoughts in that direction were lavished. He could not forget the touch of those light hands, and the velvet kisses he had received on the cheek so many weeks before. Yet he had never met Miss Higgins the second time. He believed he would see her some day, however, and determined to remain heart-whole until that moment. Miss Hester’s case was a hopeless one. Still her assistance in euchre was very convenient, and he could not help admiring the grace and vivacity of the girl, notwithstanding her connections. When two games had been finished, and success was about equal on either side, the house was closed, and all, excepting McKenna and the young ladies, retired. It was not quite morning when this trio separated, mutually pleased with each other and the manner in which they had passed their time. The next day McKenna left, receiving a warm and pressing invitation to repeat his visit, which he was not slow in promising. On the way home, Donahue, who had nearly recovered from his spree, only to engage in another, gave the detective, in confidence, the circumstances attending the cutting of the wire cable at Gordon Plane—thus dropping down the cars and entailing much loss and delay for the company—upon the space below, but fortunately taking no lives. He also told him of the cruel beating of a boss, on the fourteenth of the month, at Mt. Laffee, both outrages perpetrated by the Mollies. But he was not so communicative in giving the authors of those deeds, if he knew them, which might be suspected, as he was in the locality at the time.