Kehoe listened to the denunciation, his head slightly bowed, but said nothing in reply. The color of his face changed a little and his lips quivered perceptibly, yet no words escaped him. Gallagher spoke evasively, and the detective remained silent. After some talk over other and more pleasant matters, the party took leave of the priest. He made no excuse for his harsh language. He believed that it had been deserved, and had, therefore, nothing to take back. In the streets Kehoe maintained a moody silence. His small eyes wandered from object to object, however, resting on nothing long. He was wounded by the imprecations of his clergyman, yet could find no means of escaping their weight. Gallagher and McKenna endeavored to rally his sunken, sullen spirits, but in vain. Up to the time of their separation he seldom spoke. Excusing himself, the operative returned to the hotel for supper, and spent the evening writing in his bedroom. After sealing his report and preparing for an early start for Shenandoah—where he determined to go at once and encounter the lion, Lawler, in his native jungle—he retired to his bed and wooed repose. ————●———— CHAPTER XI. A KILKENNY AFFAIR AT TAMAQUA. Taking cars over the Shamokin branch of the Philadelphia and Reading road, the ensuing morning, McKenna started for his destination; but, overhearing a conversation occurring in the seat before his own, between two rough-looking men who boarded the train at a station not far from Shenandoah, during the course of which he learned that Muff Lawler had gone on a short visit to some friends in Pottsville, he concluded it would be best to shun the locality for the present and proceed at once to Tamaqua, a city that, thus far, he had devoted very little attention to. When the train stopped, therefore, at the point named, he took up his satchel—having left the remainder of his baggage at the hotel in Girardville—alighted at the depot, and, proceeding at once to the Columbia House, which he had understood from Dormer was frequented by the Mollie Maguires when visiting the city, secured a room and made the acquaintance of the innkeeper, named Marks. Although by this time somewhat accustomed to rough society and unruly transactions, he soon acquired the information that, of all the cities, towns, and villages he had seen in Pennsylvania, to Tamaqua, at that date, must be awarded the palm for holding prominence in these particular characteristics. It appeared to be the centre of attraction for a flock of unemployed stragglers, discharged men from adjacent collieries, tramps, and other reprobates. Liquor flowed unrestrainedly, and was largely consumed in the various saloons and taverns. A storm of wind, rain, and sleet prevailed, and the streets wore a deserted appearance, while the grog-shops and gambling-rooms were all crowded and in full blast. There