After Clinton had gone, Hycy felt considerably puzzled as to the manner in which he had conducted himself during the whole evening. Sometimes he imagined he was under the influence of liquor, for he had drunk pretty freely; and again it struck him that he manifested an indifference to the proposal made to him, which he only attempted to conceal lest Hycy might perceive it. He thought, however, that he observed a seriousness in Clinton, towards the close of their conversation, which could not have been assumed; and as he gave himself a good deal of credit for penetration, he felt satisfied that circumstances were in a proper train, and likely, by a little management, to work out his purposes.
Hycy, having bade him good night at the hall-door, returned again to the parlor, and called Nanny Peety—“Nanny,” said he, “which of the Hogans did you see to-day?”
“None o' them, sir, barrin' Kate: they wor all out.”
“Did you give her the message?”
“Why, sir, if it can be called a message, I did.”
“What did you say, now?”
“Why, I tould her to tell whichever o' them she happened to see first, that St. Pether was dead.”
“And what did she say to that?”
“Why, sir, she said it would be a good story for you if he was.”
“And what did she mean by that, do you think?”