"How old is the crathur?"
"Five or six—I forget which. Where shall I put her?"
"Put her in here," said Mrs. Donovan, and she opened the door of a small room, in which was a single untidy bed.
"She won't wake up till morning. I gave her a sleeping potion—otherwise she might have made a fuss, for she doesn't know me to be her father."
"Shure ye knew what to do."
"Now, Mrs. Donovan, I depend upon your keeping her safe. It will not do to let her escape, for she might find her way back to the people from whom I have taken her."
"I'll see to that, Mr. Hartley," said Donovan.
"Say nothing about me in connection with the matter, Donovan. I will communicate with you from time to time. If the police are put on the track, I depend on your sending her away to some other place of security."
"All right, sir."
"And now good-night. I shall go back to New York at once. I must leave you to pacify her as well as you can when she awakes. She is sure to make a fuss."