Patsy Devlin slipped round the corner of the Castle, and dodging through a plantation of laurels, made his way to the stable-yard. Lord Manton was left to watch the approach of Miss Blow, without any very clear idea of what she was likely to want of him; or how Jimmy O’Loughlin and Patsy Devlin expected to keep the doctor’s flight a secret from her. He observed with pleasure that she was more than commonly good-looking, that she carried herself well, and wore clothes which set off a fine figure. He had heard from Dr. O’Grady of the daughter of the Leeds tobacconist, and had formed a mental picture of her which in no way corresponded to the young lady who approached him. He reflected that she was probably in deep distress, and he looked forward with some pleasure to an interview in the course of which she was almost certain to cry. He had no objection to playing the part of comforter to a charming girl. His face expressed fatherly benignity when Miss Blow reached him. “Am I addressing Lord Manton?” she asked. “Certainly. Is there anything I can do for you?” He almost added the words “my dear,” but there was a look in Miss Blow’s fine eyes which checked him. He decided that paternal affection would come in more appropriately after she began to cry. “I am Miss Blow,” she said. “Come in,” said Lord Manton, “come in. You must be tired after your walk. Let me lead the way into the library. I have often heard of you from my friend Dr. O’Grady, and if there is anything I can do to help you I shall be most happy to do it.” He set Miss Blow in a deep chair near the window, pulled over another chair for himself, and sat down beside her. “I am entirely at your service,” he said. “It will be a pleasure to me to give any help in my power to a charming young lady. I----” Miss Blow’s eyes warned him again. There was a hard glitter in them very little suggestive of tears. He stopped abruptly. “I understand that you are a magistrate,” she said. Lord Manton bowed. Then he sat up straight in his chair and tried to express in his attitude a proper judicial solemnity. “I want,” said Miss Blow, “to have Dr. O’Grady found at once.” “A very natural and a very proper wish,” said Lord Manton. “I am in entire sympathy with you. I should like very much to find Dr. O’Grady. But----” “Dead or alive,” said Miss Blow firmly. “My dear Miss Blow!” The “my dear” came quite naturally to his lips this time. The words expressed sheer astonishment. There was no suggestion of affection, paternal or other, in the way he uttered them. “Dead or alive,” said Miss Blow again. “Don’t make such horrible suggestions, Miss Blow. I assure you there’s not the slightest reason for supposing that Dr. O’Grady is anything but alive and well.” “Then where is he?” Miss Blow spoke sharply, incisively. Lord Manton began to think that she must be some new kind of girl, quite outside of his experience, one who felt more indignation than sorrow at the loss of her lover.