Dougherty kept a real estate office, was a sort of a lawyer, and his son took general charge of the drinking place. The elder Dougherty was present on this occasion, and did not seem pleased that Dormer had brought a stranger along, though he contented himself with scowling upon him and saying nothing particularly hateful. Following a companionable dram or two—one proffered all hands by the new arrival—the men repaired to a back room, McKenna having been previously warned by Dormer to remain behind, unless sent for. In a moment he was alone in the bar-room, while, as he supposed, a body of the bloody Mollie Maguires was in session under the same roof. More than an hour elapsed, and there was not an order sent in for a drop to drink, which, considering the character of the party, was, he thought, rather strange. Still the men remained in council. He was only able occasionally to hear a confused murmur of voices in the adjoining apartment, and could make out nothing that was said. What were they deliberating about? He could not guess, but he seemed to have a certain dread of the result, as though it might affect his own safety. “Perhaps,” he surmised, “these fellows are even now considering whether I am an impostor or not, and should they prove successful in showing me up in my true character my life will pay the forfeit of my rashness in venturing among them.” Still he pretended to doze unconcernedly in his chair before the cheerful fire. But all similarly uncomfortable thoughts were dispersed and his attention turned in another and more comfortable direction by the sudden return of Capt. Dougherty to the bar. And he came not for liquor. He evidently wished to speak with the stranger, as he advanced toward him, extending his hand pleasantly, saying: “Excuse me, friend McKenna, for keeping you so long alone! I must ask your forgiveness for another thing! When I first saw you here, I made up a rash opinion that you were against us, and I so charged, as I now see, acting under a mistaken notion, as I am fully convinced you are all right, an’ ‘old head’—an’ I desire to see an’ know more of you! Dormer vouches for you—and his word is not to be questioned!” “What is it all about, now? What do ye mane?” “I mean you are all correct! You are an ‘old-timer!’ That’s what I mean!” “Af coorse I knew it! Why not? I hev no objections to all that! I’m also agreeable to your better acquaintance!” And the detective’s thoughts were lightened considerably. A load seemed lifted from him. And, the remainder of the company soon coming in, he was cordially congratulated by many, and quickly responded by another urgent request to “assist in making the disappearance of some more noggins of poteen.” That’s the way he fashioned it. All accepted with alacrity.