and key, to prevent a further breach of the peace.

Meanwhile, the unhappy girl had been rescued from the Kennington
lodging-house, and taken back to the family seat at Mitchelstown, where
at least she ought to be safe from further harm from the scoundrelly
Fitzgerald. The Kings, however, had not reckoned on the desperate,
vindictive nature of the man, who was now more resolute than ever to get
Mary into his power.

Disguising himself, he journeyed to Cork, carrying the fight into the
enemy's camp. He took up his quarters at the Mitchelstown Inn to develop
his plans for a second abduction. But in his scheming Fitzgerald had
literally "bargained without his host," who chanced to be an old trusted
retainer of the King family, and who from the first was not a little
suspicious of the strange guest, who kept so mysteriously indoors all
day and walked abroad at night.

No honest man would act in this secretive way, he thought. There had
been strange "goings-on" lately; and the least he could do was to
communicate his fears to Lord Kingsborough, in case his guest should be
"up to some mischief." His lordship, who was away from home, hurried
back to Mitchelstown, convinced, from the description, that the
suspected man was none other than Fitzgerald himself, and arrived at the
inn only to discover that the bird had already flown.

Luckily, it was no difficult matter to trace the fugitive in the wilds
of County Cork. The postboy who had driven him was easily found, and
from him it was learnt that the stranger had been put down at the
Kilworth Hotel. There was no time to be lost. Jumping on to his horse,
Lord Kingsborough accompanied by his son, the Colonel, raced as fast as