Martin was a little disappointed regarding the value of his discovery. He had expected to learn from Miss Fleming something about Hall. Still, he had found an important link in the chain, and on his arrival in London sought the inspector from whom he had secured Blount's services.

It was late at night—or rather early morning—and everything being quiet, Inspector Prime was rather glad than otherwise to see Martin. The latter related the finding of the locket, and the subsequent finding of the original of the photograph in it.

The inspector listened attentively. He considered it an important piece of evidence and said as much, but counselled waiting for news from Blount. Hall was under surveillance, and there was no danger of his slipping through their fingers again. Meantime he would put a "good woman" into Hall's late residence in Harley Street—as chambermaid. Through her everything there belonging to Hall could be examined without exciting suspicion.

Martin did not reach his hotel until daylight, and did not arise until late in the day. On descending to the office he was agreeably surprised to find a letter from Blount. The contents, however, were not encouraging. Blount was unable to find any trace of Hall, as yet, but did not despair of doing so.

Martin immediately communicated with Blount by telegraph, telling him he had discovered the original of the locket picture.

This being done Martin had apparently reached the end of his tether. What to do with himself he did not know, but he would not go back to Hanley Hall, for feeling reasonably certain of finally proving his case against Hall, and being determined to follow it up, he did not care to meet Kate. That she must have some regard for Hall seemed only natural—otherwise why the engagement.

For want of something else to do, Martin sought Inspector Prime and learned that he, too, had heard from Blount.

"I can't stand this infernal idleness," said Martin during the conversation. "If I felt certain of catching Blount at Antwerp I would——"

"Why not take a trip to Dublin?" interrupted the inspector. "You will have to act carefully, however, and do just as O'Brien, the detective there, bids you. Does this Hall know you?"

"I think not. He met me once at Hanley Hall, but under circumstances which would probably leave no impression of my appearance on his mind."

"Well, you might go there to relieve the monotony of waiting—but be careful!"

Within a few hours Martin was crossing the Channel, and on arriving in Dublin found, on presenting a letter from Inspector Prime, that Hall, and his shadow, O'Brien, were at Naas, in Kildare, where it was understood the former was about buying considerable property, and after spending the day in Dublin, Martin proceeded to Naas.

At the "Blessert Arms," the best of the two inns in Naas, Martin found O'Brien, to whom he had a letter from Dublin.

There was nothing to report, O'Brien told him, except that Hall was well supplied with money, which he spent freely; that he had made many good friends, and was negotiating for the purchase of an estate in the vicinity.

"Does he live here?" asked Martin.

"Yes—whenever he can get away from his friends. To-day, and for the past two days, he's been off thirty mile from here shooting."

"But how the deuce can you keep track of him there?" exclaimed Martin, in angry surprise. "I understood he was never out of your sight or reach!"

"Be easy now, Mr. Martin. He's not out of either my sight or reach, for on my recommendation he engaged my partner, Jim Farrel, as his valet. Jim wired me just a hour ago that they will be back to-night."

O'Brien smiled just a little triumphantly as he finished, and then pretending not to notice Martin's confusion, continued:

"You see, Mr. Martin, I formed the acquaintance of our friend almost as soon as he arrived in Dublin, and I've cultivated that acquaintance with great success ever since. I am here by his invitation, but my pride—I am a gentleman in somewhat reduced circumstances, d'ye mind—my pride will not permit of my mingling very much in the sport which he is now enjoying, and in which he at first insisted I should join him."

The two gazed for a moment at each other as the detective finished. Then Martin extended his hand:

"I don't suppose there's any use of saying anything," he said, smiling ruefully at his own discomfiture.

"No more than there is necessity," responded O'Brien, heartily. "Come! Let's take a drop of something!" and after giving the order continued: "That reminds me of something—our friend, I am happy to say, is beginning to drink heavily."

Martin looked inquiringly, and O'Brien exclaimed:

"It shows he's growing either careless or desperate, for he drank nothing in Dublin, and something's bound to come of it."

Hall, together with several friends, arrived that evening. All were in high spirits, because, perhaps, as O'Brien explained to Martin, "they had a fair quantity inside of them."

The party proceeded at once to Hall's rooms, where wine and whiskey were ordered freely until late in the night, when they adjourned to the bar. Martin was standing with one elbow resting on the bar, his hand under his chin and his feet crossed, when they entered. Hall, who was quite drunk, either accidentally or in bravado knocked up against him and almost threw him off his feet. Martin was not in a happy mood, and angrily demanded what he meant; but even as he spoke, seeing Hall's condition, turned away.

The latter was not too drunk to catch the contempt expressed by the look and the action, and angrily insisted that Martin should listen to him, but instead Martin walked slowly away as if about to leave the room. He had not gone five paces before Hall was after him and struck him with his walking-stick. The blow, if it could be called a blow, for Hall was barely able to lift the stick, was the last straw—Martin's patience was exhausted. Turning on Hall like an enraged lion, he lifted him bodily and threw him half the length of the room—the flying body coming down with a crash amidst the chairs and tables along the wall.

Hall did not move, and as his friends picked him up someone said he was dead, and suggested detaining Martin, who, after lighting a cigar, walked out and off through the country for five miles. When he returned he had walked off his excitement, and enjoyed a good night's rest.

Martin paid no further attention to the matter, and laughed at O'Brien when the latter next day spoke of further trouble; but that evening a gentleman called upon him with a message from Mr. Hall demanding an apology, as public as the injury, or a duel!

At first Martin laughed at the idea, but his caller was an Irishman, very gentlemanly, very pleasant, but also very determined that his friend should have either one or the other, with the preference largely in favor of the duel. Mr. Martin must recognize the fact that he (Martin) was a big, powerful fellow, while his friend was comparatively a small man; and while it was true there had been a little trouble, the punishment was very largely in excess of the provocation. Moreover, the affair having been so public, he could hardly see how Mr. Hall should be satisfied with an apology—but, then, that was not his affair.

The upshot of the conversation was that Martin allowed himself to be badgered into saying he had a friend in the inn to whom he would refer the matter, and Captain Carroll having accomplished his object, departed with a satisfied smile and a pleasant "good-evening."

"I ought to have pitched the fellow out of the window! But I'll be hanged if you could be angry with him, you would think it was a marriage instead of a possible funeral he was arranging," said Martin, as he explained the affair shortly after to O'Brien, adding: "Is it possible this thing cannot be ignored? It seems ridiculous!"

"Yes, you might take the next train for Dublin," replied O'Brien, quietly, "otherwise you may as well make up your mind to fight, for Carroll will leave no loophole open for an amicable settlement. He delights in fighting himself, and would die of mortification if any affair he was engaged in should be settled without going out."

Martin swore he would not run, neither would he fight, but the man who interfered with him would remember and regret it, if he lived long enough; but in the end submitted to "the custom of the country," and O'Brien called on Captain Carroll that very evening.