"Ah, and I do that same, sir," said Denis, saluting in military fashion, "and you know why, sir."
"Are they reconciled?" asked Tait, guessing what was in the mind of the old servant.
"Begad, they are! Chattering together like two love birds, and my old master looking on with pride."
"Why, Kerry, I spoke of Captain Larcher."
"Augh, did you now, sir? I spoke of Master Claude, God bless him, and Miss Jenny, God bless her! God bless them both!" cried Kerry, taking off his hat, with a burst of affection, "and his honor along with them. Oh, glory be to the saints for this blessed day. But sure, I am forgetting my service, sir. The master is waiting to see you this very minute."
"I was just on my way," said Tait, signing to Kerry to go on. "We will walk there together. By the way, does Miss Jenny know she is not the daughter of your master?"
"She knew it all along, sir. Ah, and why should you look surprised at that, Mr. Tait? Is it because she is the niece of an old soldier like me?"
"No, no, Kerry! But, as you are aware, Miss Jenny knows the case from those newspapers she found; and in that report Jeringham——"
"I see what you mean, sir," said Kerry, touching his hat in a deprecating manner; "but sure she doesn't know all. She believes herself to be the child of my sister, Mona—who is dead, rest her soul, and of a Mr. Kennedy. We've invented a father for her, sir. 'Twould never do for her to know she was the daughter of the poor man who was killed."
"It is just as well, Kerry. Do you know who killed him?" Tait asked this question with a keen glance at the man.