Connor paused.
“Why, now that I think of it, I didn't see him to-day,” he replied; “I thought that he was mendin' the slap at the Three-Acres. I'll thry if he's in the barn.”
And he went accordingly to find him. “I'm afraid, father,” said he, on his return, “that Bartle's a bad boy, an' a dangerous one; he's not in the barn, an' it appears, from the bed, that he didn't sleep there last night. The truth is, he's gone; at laste he has brought all his clothes, his box, an' everything with him; an' what's more, I suspect the reason of it; he thinks he has let out too much to me; an' it 'ill go hard but I'll make him let out more.”
The servant-maid, Biddy, now entered and informed them that four men, evidently strangers, were approaching the house from the rear, and ere she could add anything further on the subject, two of them walked in, and, seizing Connor, informed him that he was their prisoner.
“Your prisoner!” exclaimed his mother, getting pale; “why, what could our poor boy do to make him your prisoner? He never did hurt or harm to the child unborn.”
Fardorougha's keen gray eye rested sharply upon them for a moment; it then turned to Honor, afterwards to Connor, and again gleamed bitterly at the intruders—“What is this?” said he, starting up; “what is this? you don't mane to rob us?”
“I think,” said the son, “you must be undher a mistake; you surely can have no business with me. It's very likely you want some one else.”
“What is your name?” inquired he who appeared to be the principal of them.
“My name is Connor O'Donovan; an' I know no reason why I should deny it.”
“Then you are the very man we come for,” said the querist, “so you had better prepare to accompany us; in the mean time you must excuse us if we search your room. This is unpleasant, I grant, but we have no discretion, and must perform our duty.”