“Go on, Sandy,” said Daly, “What then?”
“Weel, sir, I sat down on the stair at the foot of the big clock, and said to mysel, 'I 'll gie ye ten minutes mair, but not a second after.' And sure enough ye might hear every tick of her through the house, a' was so still and silent. Short as the time was, I thought it wad never gae past, for I did no tak my eyes aff o' her face. When the ten minutes was up, I stole gently up the stair, and opened the door. A was dark inside, so I opened the window, and there was the bed—empty; nobody had lain in it syne it was made. There was a bit ashes in the grate, and some burned paper on the hearth, but na other sign that onybody was there at a', sae I crept back again, and met the flunkie as he was coming up, for he had just missed me, and was in a real fright where I was gone to. I saw by his face that he was found out, and so I laid my hand on his shoulder, and said, 'Ye ha tauld me ane lee; ye maun tak care no to tell me anither. Where is yer maister?' Then came out the truth. Mr. Gleeson was gane awa to England. He sailed for Liverpool in the 'Shamrock.'”
“Impossible!” said Darcy. “He could not be away from Dublin at this moment.”
“It's even sae,” replied Sandy, gravely; “for when I heard a' that I could from the flunkie, I put him into the library, and locked the door on him, and then went round to the stable-yard, where the coachman was sitting in the harness-room, smoking. 'And so he's off to England,' said I to him, as if I kenned it a'.
“'Just sae,' said he, wi' the pipe in his mouth. “'And he's nae to be back for some time,' said I, speerin' at him.
“'On Friday,' said he; and he smoked away, and never a word mair could I get out o' him.”
“Why, Sandy,” said the Knight, laughing, “they'd make you a prefect of police if they had you in France.”
“I dinna ken, sir,” said Sandy, not exactly appreciating what the nature of the appointment might portend.
“I only hope Gleeson may not hear of the perquisition on his return,” said the Knight, in a whisper to Daly. “Our friend Sandy pushes his spirit of inquiry somewhat far.”
“I don't know that,” said Daly, thoughtfully; “he's a shrewd fellow, and rarely makes a mistake of that kind. But come, let us lose no more time.”