“To the office of the Upper Secretary, sir, I am to address all his letters,” said Wylie, for the first time venturing on a slight approach to a smile.
“His hotel, I mean. Where does he stop in the city?”
“He usually stays in the Lower Castle-yard, sir, when in town, and probably will be there now, as the Privy Council is sitting, and they may want to examine him.”
The slow measured tone in which these few words were uttered gave them a direct application to Mark himself which made him flush deeply. He stood for a few seconds, seemingly in doubt, and then turned his steps towards home.
“Did you hear what the young O'Donoghue said, there, as he passed?” said Wylie to a labouring man who stood gazing after the youth.
“I did, faix,” replied the other; “I heerd it plain enough.”
“Tell me the words, Pat—I'd like to hear them.”
“'Tis what he said—'He's escaped me this time; but, by G—, he'll not have the same luck always.'”
“It was Mr. Hemsworth he was after,” said Wylie. “It was him he meant.”
“To be sure it was; didn't I hear him asking after him.”