distant place, the terminus of the line of railway on which it stood, and it was supposed that no harm could possibly come of their visiting it. They were told to drive from Clonmore round a particularly desolate coast, to stop at hotels which were quite abominable, and to pick up another railway fifty miles off. The Inspector-General reckoned that the trip would take at least four days, and that at the end of it the party would have had enough of Ireland. In any case he would not be bothered with them again until they reached the fifty miles distant railway station. When Mr. Goddard read the telegram he was greatly irritated. He did not want to conduct a party of Members of Parliament round Clonmore, and their coming would certainly not help him to deal with Miss Blow. He foresaw frightful complications. It was possible that the Members of Parliament, rejoicing in the unexpected discovery of a side of Irish life hitherto unknown to them, might insist on joining in the search for the body of Dr. O’Grady. He determined, if he possibly could, to prevent their arrival. He went back into the hotel and wrote a telegram. “Inspector-General of Police, Dublin. This district quite unsuited to Members of Parliament. Am investigating cases of mysterious disappearance. Inhabitants greatly excited. Disaffection feared. Send party elsewhere.” “Take this,” he said to Constable Moriarty, “and dispatch it at once.” “The office shuts at eight, sir,” said the constable; “but I’ll see that it’s sent off first thing in the morning.” Mr. Goddard looked at his watch. It was twenty minutes to nine o’clock. At eight the next morning the party would leave Dublin. He swore again and tore up his telegram. CHAPTER XII Mr. Goddard met Miss Blow at breakfast next morning, and nerved himself to the task of telling her that the search for Dr. O’Grady’s body must be put off for twenty-four hours on account of the visit of the Members of Parliament to the district. He did not know exactly how she would take the news. He half hoped she might get angry and say something which would give him an excuse for washing his hands of her affairs. He feared that she might cry again as she had cried in his dining-room the day before. He did not want to comfort her under Jimmy O’Loughlin’s roof. Either Bridgy or Mrs. O’Loughlin might enter the room at any moment. Even Jimmy himself, under some pretext, might interrupt the affecting scene. Mr. Goddard was conscious that an account of his dealing with a tearful Miss Blow given by Jimmy O’Loughlin would add to the gaiety of the neighbourhood. His hope, as it turned out, was quite vain and his fear unfounded. Miss Blow took the news in a most unexpected way. “I’m glad to hear it,” she said.