'Well, an' did he?”
“He went—an'—but you had betther tell it yourself, avillish,” she added, addressing Hanlon; “you know best.”
The pedlar instantly fixed his anxious and lively eyes on the young man, intimating that he looked to him for the rest of the story.
“I went,” proceeded Hanlon, “and you shall hear everything that happened.”
It is unnecessary for us, however, to go over the same ground a second time. Hanlon minutely detailed to him all that had taken place at the Grey Stone, precisely as it occurred, if we allow for a slight exaggeration occasioned by his terrors, and the impressions of supernatural manifestations which they left upon his imagination.
The pedlar heard all the circumstances with an astonishment which changed his whole bearing into that of deep awe and the most breathless attention. The previous eccentricity of his manner by degrees abandoned him; and as Hanlon proceeded, he frequently looked at him in a state of abstraction, then raised his eyes towards heaven, uttering, from time to time, “Merciful Father!”—“Heaven preserve us!” and such like, thus accompanying him by a running comment of exclamations as he went along.
“Well,” said he, when Hanlon had concluded, “surely the hand of God is in this business; you may take that for granted.”
“I would fain hope as much,” replied Hanlon; “but as the matthers stand now, we're nearly as far from it as ever. Instead of gettin' any knowledge of the murdherer we want to discover, it proves to be the murdher of Sullivan that has been found out.”
“Of Sullivan!” he exclaimed; “well, to be sure—oh, ay—well, sure that same is something; but, in the mane time, will you let me look at this Box you spoke of? I feel a curiosity to see it.”
Hanlon rose and taking the Box from a small deal chest which was strongly locked, placed it in the pedlar's hands. After examining it closely for about half a minute, they could observe that he got very pale, and his hands began to tremble, as he held and turned it about in a manner that was very remarkable.