"One of the members of my family?" Sir Giles repeated, on his side.

"Why, man alive, what are you thinking of? I'm an old bachelor, and I

haven't got a family."

"There is your brother, sir."

"My brother is in France--out of the way of the wretches who are

threatening me. I wish I was with him!"

"There are your brother's two sons, Sir Giles."

"Well? And what is there to be afraid of? My nephew, Hugh, is in

London--and, mind! not on a political errand. I hope, before long, to

hear that he is going to be married--if the strangest and nicest girl

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in England will have him. What's wrong now?"

Dennis explained. "I only wished to say, sir, that I was thinking of

your other nephew."

Sir Giles laughed. "Arthur in danger!" he exclaimed. "As harmless a

young man as ever lived. The worst one can say of him is that he is

throwing away his money--farming in Kerry."

"Excuse me, Sir Giles; there's not much chance of his throwing away his

money, where he is now. Nobody will venture to take his money. I met

with one of Mr. Arthur's neighbours at the market yesterday. Your

nephew is boycotted."

"So much the better," the obstinate banker declared. "He will be cured

of his craze for farming; and he will come back to the place I am

keeping for him in the office."

"God grant it!" the clerk said fervently.

For the moment, Sir Giles was staggered. "Have you heard something that

you haven't told me yet?" he asked.

"No, sir. I am only bearing in mind something which--with all

respect--I think you have forgotten. The last tenant on that bit of

land in Kerry refused to pay his rent. Mr. Arthur has taken what they

call an evicted farm. It's my firm belief," said the head clerk, rising

and speaking earnestly, "that the person who has addressed those

letters to you knows Mr. Arthur, and knows he is in danger--and is

trying to save your nephew (by means of your influence), at the risk of

his own life."

Sir Giles shook his head. "I call that a far-fetched interpretation,

Dennis. If what you say is true, why didn't the writer of those

anonymous letters address himself to Arthur, instead of to me?"

"I gave it as my opinion just now, sir, that the writer of the letter

knew Mr. Arthur."




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