He then followed the servant, who conducted him to Hennessy, whom he found in the back parlor. “Well, Mr. Hennessy,” said he, impatiently, “what is the matter now?” “Why,” replied the other, “I have one as good as bagged, Sir Robert.” “One what?” “Why, a priest, sir.” “Well, Mr. Hennessy, I am particularly engaged now; but as to Reilly, can you not come upon his trail? I would rather have him than a dozen priests; however, remain here for about twenty minutes, or say half an hour, and I will talk with you at more length. For the present I am most particularly engaged.” “Very well, Sir Robert, I shall await your leisure; but, as to Reilly, I have every reason to think that he has left the country.” Sir Robert, on going into the hall, saw the porter open the door, and Miss Herbert presented herself. “Oh,” said he, “is this you? I am glad you came; follow me into the front parlor.” She accordingly did so; and after he had shut the door he addressed her as follows: “Now, tell me how the devil you were discovered; or were you accessory yourself to the discovery, by your egregious folly and vanity?” “Oh, la, Sir Robert, do you think I am a fool?” “I fear you are little short of it,” he replied; “at all events, you have succeeded in knocking up my marriage with Miss Folliard. How did it happen that they found you out?” She then detailed to him the circumstances exactly as the reader is acquainted with them. He paused for some time, and then said, “There is some mystery at the bottom of this which I must fathom. Have you any reason to know how the family became acquainted with your history?” “No, sir; not in the least.” “Do you think Miss Folliard meets any person privately?” “Not, sir, while I was with her.” “Did she ever attempt to go out by herself?” “Not, sir, while I was with her.” “Very well, then, I'll tell you what you must do; her father is above with me now, in a perfect hurricane of indignation. Now you must say that the girl Herbert, whom I recommended to the squire, was a friend of yours; that she gave you the letter of recommendation which I gave her to Mr. Folliard; that having married her sweetheart and left the country with him, you were tempted to present yourself in her stead, and to assume her name. I will call you up by and by; but what name will you take?” “My mother's name, sir, was Wilson.” “Very good; what was her Christian name?” “Catherine, sir.” “And you must say that I know nothing whatsoever of the imposture you were guilty of. I shall make it worth your while; and if you don't get well through with it, and enable me to bamboozle the old fellow, I have done with you. I shall send for you by and by.” He then rejoined the squire, who was walking impatiently about the room.