“What’s that you say?” asked Major Snaffle. “The young lady gone, also?”
“Is it Miss Kate?” broke in Jerry. “Oh, thin, ’t is the divil’s worst work! Miss Kate not to be found—is that your m’aning? ’T is not consayvable.”
“Oh, I don’t think there’s anything serious in that,” said Bernard. “She’ll turn out to be safe and snug somewhere when everything’s cleared up. But, in the meantime, where’s O’Daly? How did he get out of here?”
The major rose and walked over to the door. He examined its fastenings and lock with attention.
“It can only be opened from the outside,” he remarked as he returned to his seat.
“I know that,” said Bernard. “And I’ve got a notion that there’s only one man alive who could have come and opened it.”
“Is it Lin—me cousin, you mane?” asked Jerry.
“Egor! He was never out of me sight, daylight or dark, till they arrested us together.”
“No,” replied Bernard. “I didn’t mean him. The man I’m thinking of is The O’Mahony himself.”
Jerry leaped to his feet so swiftly that the major instinctively clutched his revolver anew. But there was no menace in Jerry’s manner. He stood for a moment, his fat face reddened in the candle’s pale glow, his gray eyes ashine, his mouth expanding in a grin of amazed delight. Then he burst forth in a torrent of eager questioning.