“Dead, indeed! I should say not. You’re as right as a trivet. Close your eyes now for a minute until you get more used to things.”
Telemac stood up and looked the doctor squarely in the eye.
“Who is this poor, unhappy, neglected little soul?” he asked in a low voice.
“He is the second son of the Duke of Kilkenty,” answered the doctor in a half-frightened voice.
“The Duke of Kilkenty?” gasped Feargus.
He exchanged a long glance with Telemac and then walked swiftly away, but Billie felt sure that it had been the Duke of Kilkenty who had driven the O’Connor family out of their ancestral holdings.
CHAPTER V.—LONDON AT NIGHT.
It was quite dark when the train pulled into Paddington Station in London. It was raining, too, and the wet asphalt streets became mirrors underfoot, reflecting the myriad lights of the city. There was great confusion at the depot. Luggage must be identified and collected; steamer friends parted with and cabs engaged.
“My goodness!” exclaimed Miss Campbell, who had not been in London for twenty years, “I feel so lonesome all of a sudden in this crush. I do wish we had a man to help us.”
The wish was no sooner uttered than it was granted by the kind and merciful providence who has a special tenderness for helpless, middle-aged spinsters.