“Pleasure,—amusement,” interposed Merl.
“No, when I am telling a fib, I like a big one,—I 'll say, philanthropy, Merl; and there's nothing so well adapted to cover those secret investigations you are bent upon,—a tour of philanthropy.
“'You will, I am sure, lend him all possible assistance in his benevolent object,—the same being to dispose of the family acres,—and at the same time direct his attention to whatever may be matter of interest,—whether mines, quarries, or other property easily convertible into cash,—treating him in all respects as one to whom I owe many obligations—and several thousand pounds.'
“Will that do, think you?”
“Perfectly; nothing better.”
“In return, I shall ask one favor at your hands,” said Martin, as he folded and addressed the epistle. “It is that you write me a full account of what you see in the West,—how the country looks, and the people. Of course it will all seem terribly poor and destitute, and all that sort of thing, to your eyes; but just try and find out if it be worse than usual. Paddy is such a shrewd fellow, Merl, that it will require all your own sharpness not to be taken in by him. A long letter full of detail—a dash of figures in it—as to how many sheep have the rot, or how many people have caught the fever, will improve it,—you know the kind of thing I mean; and—I don't suppose you care about shooting, yourself, but you 'll get some one to tell you—are the birds plenty and in good condition. There's a certain Mr. Scanlan, if you chance upon him; he 's up to everything, and not a bad performer at dummy whist,—though I think you could teach him a thing or two.” Merl smiled and tried to look flattered, while the other went on: “And there 's another, called Henderson,—the steward,—a very shrewd person,—but you don't need all these particulars; you may be trusted to your own good guidance,—eh, Merl?”
Merl again smiled in the same fashion as before; in fact, so completely had he resumed the bland expression habitual to him, that the Captain almost forgot the unpleasant cause of his visit, and all the disagreeable incidents of the interview.
“You could n't give me a few lines to this Mr. Scanlan?” asked Merl, with an air of easy indifference.
“Nothing easier,” cried the Captain, reseating himself; then suddenly rising, with the expression of one to whom a sudden thought had just crossed the mind, “Wait one second for me here, Merl; I'll be back with you at once.” And as he spoke he dashed out of the room, and hastened to his father.
“By a rare piece of luck,” cried he, as he entered, “I 've just chanced upon the very fellow we want; an acquaintance I picked up at the Cape,—up to everything; he goes over to Ireland to-night, and he 'll take a run down to Cro' Martin, and send us his report of all he sees. Whatever he tells us may be relied upon; for, depend upon 't, no lady can humbug him. I 've just given him a note for Mary, and I 'll write a few lines also by way of introducing him to Scanlan.”