It was some consolation for his sufferings to discover that the object over which he had stumbled was the shaft of a jaunting-car, such a conveyance being at that moment what he most desired to meet with. The driver at last made his appearance, and informed him that he had brought Nickie and his two companions from Larne, and was now only waiting their summons to proceed to Coleraine.
Paul easily persuaded the man that he could earn a fare in the mean time, for that Nickie would probably not leave “The Corvy” till late on the following day, and that by a little exertion he could manage to drive to Coleraine and back before he was stirring. It is but fair to add that poor Mr. Dempsey supported his arguments by lavish promises of reward, to redeem which he speculated on mortgaging his silver watch, and probably his umbrella, when he reached Coleraine.
It was yet a full hour before daybreak, as Lady Eleanor, who had passed the night in her dressing-room, was startled by a sharp tapping noise at her window; Helen lay asleep on the sofa, and too soundly locked in slumber to hear the sounds. Lady Eleanor listened, and while half fearing to disturb the young girl, wearied and exhausted as she was, she drew near to the window. The indistinct shadow of a figure was all that she could detect through the gloom, but she fancied she could hear a weak effort to pronounce her name.
There could be little doubt of the intentions of the visitor; whoever he should prove, the frail barrier of a window could offer no resistance to any one disposed to enter by force, and, reasoning thus, Lady Eleanor unfastened the casement, and cried, “Who is there?”
A strange series of gestures, accompanied by a sound between a sneeze and the crowing of a cock, was all the reply; and when the question was repeated in a louder tone, a thin quivering voice muttered, “Pau-au-l De-de-dempsey, my La-dy.”
“Mr. Dempsey, indeed!” exclaimed Lady Eleanor. “Oh! pray come round to the door at your left hand; it is only a few steps from where you are standing.”
Short as the distance was, Mr. Dempsey's progress was of the slowest, and Lady Eleanor had already time to awaken Helen, ere the half-frozen Paul had crossed the threshold.
“He has passed the night in the snow,” cried Lady Eleanor to her daughter, as she led him towards the fire.
“No, my Lady,” stammered out Paul, “only the last hour and a half; before that I was snug under old Daly's blanket.”
A very significant interchange of looks between mother and daughter seemed to imply that poor Mr. Dempsey's wits were wandering.