"And did he tell you nothing else?" inquired Mr. Blair.
"No," said Murtagh, beginning to feel really puzzled at his uncle's strange manner.
"He did not tell you who that boy was," continued Mr. Blair.
"No," exclaimed Murtagh, with eager interest.
"Murtagh, it is useless to keep up this deception any longer. Mrs. Plunkett says you are the boy she saw."
Murtagh's nerves were already strained, and for one instant he was completely overcome by so unexpected an accusation. The color rushed to his cheeks, and his eyes filled with tears; but in a moment he was himself again, and raising his head proudly, he replied:
"Mrs. Plunkett is mistaken. I was not there, and I know nothing whatever about the fire."
Then he turned and would have left the room as was his fashion when offended with Mr. Plunkett. But his uncle said, "Stay, Murtagh, this is a very serious matter, and it is better for you to hear all the evidence against you." There was a kinder tone now, however, in Mr. Blair's voice, and the proud look died a little out of Murtagh's face as he again took up his place by the corner of his uncle's table.
Mr. Blair paused, and while the silence lasted Murtagh's eyes sought Nessa's. Such a look of trust and encouragement beamed upon him that for a moment he almost forgot his trouble in the pleasure of receiving it.
"Mrs. Plunkett," said Mr. Blair, "will you tell us exactly what you saw when the flames first wakened you?"