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 seized the frantic Arthur, and with the utmost difficulty dragged him from the church to the house of the clergyman of the parish, where he was bound with cords, and placed in a dark room in the upper story, until such time as measures should be taken for a legal investigation of the case.

In the morning the door was gently opened by one of the guards, but what was his astonishment to find his prisoner flown. An alarm was immediately given, but no traces of him were to be found, and whether he was alive or dead was equally uncertain.

No sooner had the events we have already recited taken place in Donegal, than the news flew to Dublin, where the absence of Sir Neale had been generally observed. Amongst others who received this intelligence with satisfaction, McPherson was foremost. Nothing could be more grateful to his treacherous heart, as all fear of a discovery of his own nefarious practices was now at an end.

The impending hand of fate, however, hung over the devoted Arthur, and the all-seeing eye of Providence ordained that a parricide should not thus calmly escape the punishment his crime so richly deserved. Every night while lying off St George's quay on the River Liffey, Arthur used to steal ashore, armed with a poignard; and from his contiguity to Sackville Street, he invariably directed his steps to that spot, in the hope of meeting the villain McPherson. While watching before the door, he hoard a person ask for Mr McPherson, and receive for answer from the servant, that he was out, but would return before one. This was sufficient for Arthur, and ere the morning dawned McPherson was no more. In the guilty confusion of the moment instead of returning to the vessel, Arthur flew towards the country, and here again the finger of fate seemed to guide him to his destruction.

The murder of McPherson was soon discovered by some passengers, who noticed him lying on the steps,