But she seems to like you, and I didn't hurt you any in her estimation by
my own rather sudden attraction."

"I am grateful for your appreciation," replied Mark, "even though I may
not deserve it. And more grateful for your confidence."

Walking slowly, and chatting in friendly fashion, they reached Killimaga.
As the great gates swung open their attention was arrested by the purring
of a motor. Father Murray uttered a low "Ah!" while Mark stared after
the swiftly vanishing machine. He, too, had seen its passenger, a heavy,
dark man with a short beard combed from the center to the sides. The
flashing eyes had seemed to look everywhere at once, yet the man in the
car had continued to smoke in quiet nonchalance as if he had not noticed
the two standing by the gates. Uncle Mac had described the man well. He
was 'highfalutin'' without a doubt.

"Sihasset is greatly honored," Father Murray remarked softly.

"Do you know him?"

"I have seen him before. He comes from a foreign state, but he is no
stranger to America--nor to England, for that matter. Have you any
acquaintance with the diplomats in London?"

"I have attended balls at which some of them were present."

"Does your memory recall one of that type?" persisted the priest.

"No, it does not."