In the subsequent search Moleskin showed infinite resource. Torn by the emotions of love, I could not form correct judgments. No sooner had one expedient failed, however, than my mate suggested another. On the morning after our interview with the priest he suddenly rose from his seat in the bedroom, full of a new design.
"My great Jehovah, I have it, Flynn!" he roared enthusiastically.
"What is it?" I asked. Every new outburst of Moleskin gave me renewed hope.
"Gourock Ellen, that's the woman!" he cried. "She knows ev'rything and she lives in the south side, where you saw your wench for the last time. I'm goin' to see Gourock Ellen, for she's the woman that knows ev'rything, by God! she does. You can stop here and I'll be back in next to no time."
About seven o'clock in the evening Joe returned. There was a strained look on his face and he gazed at me furtively when he entered. Instantly I realised that the search had not gone well. He was nervous and agitated, and his voice was low and subdued. It was not Moleskin's voice at all. Something had happened, something discouraging, awful.
"I'm back again," he said.
"Have you seen her, Joe?" I asked hoarsely. I had been waiting his return for hours and I was on the tenter-hooks of suspense.
"I've seen Gourock Ellen," said Joe.
"Does she know anything about Norah?"
"She does." I waited for further information, but my mate relapsed into a silence which irritated me.