"Never moind, Fernando, I'll not desert ye, and if my one comes to ye about satisfaction, or inything of the kind, and asks you to mintion your frind, sind thim to Terrence Malone, and he will make the arrangements, that's all."
Fernando had no more idea what he meant than if he had addressed him in Hindoo, and he gave the matter little or no further thought. He was in his room poring over his books the second day after the interview, when there came a rap at his door.
"Come in!" he cried in his broad, western fashion.
The door opened, and, to his surprise, a young English officer entered the apartment.
"Is this Mr. Fernando Stevens?" he asked politely.
"It is."
"I am the bearer of a message from Lieutenant Matson."
"Pray who is Lieutenant Matson?"
"Of his majesty's ship the Xenophon."
Fernando thought he must be mistaken, as he had not the least recollection of ever hearing of Lieutenant Matson; but the ensign assured him that he was the person with whom the lieutenant had to deal, and then asked if he could refer him to some friend with whom the business might be arranged. Then the youthful American remembered Terrence Malone's strange instructions and sent the ensign at once to the young Irishman.