The Weird Sisters: A Romance. Volume 1 of 3. Dowling Richard

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      Mr. Grey laughed outright. The laughter seemed to soothe Farleg a little. He cast his large blue eyes once more hastily round the room, then regarded the banker for an instant, and dropped his glance upon the chair.

      Nothing could have been more reassuring than the brilliantly-lighted dining-room, the good-natured, good-humoured face of its master, and the harmlessly seductive appearance of the chair. Farleg was ashamed of his fears; upon another invitation, and an assurance that nothing farther would be said by his host until he had returned to his former position, he threw himself once more into the comfortable seat.

      "And now, Joe, that we are in a position to go on smoothly, what can I do for you?"

      "You remember, sir, the night of the robbery, sir?"

      "Yes; you broke into my house, into one of the tower-rooms, on the evening of the 17th of this month, and you carried off a few things of no great value."

      "And you're not going to send the police after me?"

      "No."

      Farleg leaned forward in his chair until his elbows rested on his knees.

      "You missed the things. You said a while ago you expected me, or whoever did the robbery; was that a true word? Did you expect whoever did the robbery to come and see you?"

      "I did. I could not be sure you would come, but when I missed the things I thought you might call. There was, of course, the chance you might not."

      "That's it. Well, I have come, you see. I found some rings, and I kept three; but I thought you might like to have this one, and I brought it to you, as I am about to leave the country. Look at it. It's a plain gold guard."

      As Farleg said these words his eyes, no longer wandering, fixed themselves on the face of Mr. Grey.

      For an instant the face of the banker puckered and wrinkled up like a blighted leaf. Almost instantly it smoothed out again; and, with a bland smile, he said:

      "Thank you very much. It was my poor wife's guard ring. You were very kind to think of bringing it back to me."

      As he spoke he began softly opening the drawer of the little table that stood between him and the burglar.

      CHAPTER II

      A GENEROUS BANKER

      The ring lay on the little table. Mr. Grey did not take it up, but left it where Farleg had placed it.

      When the banker had pulled out the drawer half-a-dozen inches, he looked up from the ring, and, with a glance of kindly interest, said:

      "So you intend leaving the country. Why? And where do you purpose going?"

      Farleg looked down at his boots, and thrust up his shoulders as he answered:

      "Well, sir, things are getting hot, and the place is getting hot. It isn't every one has so much consideration as you for a man who has to live as best he can – "

      "Poor fellow!"

      "And if I and the old woman don't clear out of this soon, why, they'll be sending me away, 'Carriage paid: with care.'"

      He paused, raised his head, and turned those prominent blue eyes on the face of the banker. The latter was drawing small circles on the table in front of him with the white forefinger of his left hand, his eyes intently followed his finger, his white right hand rested on the edge of the partly open drawer.

      Mr. Grey said, softly and emphatically: "I understand, I understand. Go on, and don't be afraid to speak plainly, Joe. May I ask you what you were before you devoted yourself to your present – profession? Your conversation and way of putting things are far above the average of men of your calling;" with a smile of sly interest.

      "I was a clerk, sir," answered the man meekly.

      "In a bank?" demanded the banker, looking up brightly.

      "No, sir; in a corn-store."

      "Ah, I thought it couldn't have been in a bank. We are not so fortunate as to have men of your talents and enterprise in banks. But I interrupted you. Pray, proceed. You were about to say – " The invitation was accompanied by a gracious and encouraging wave of the left hand.

      "I was thinking, sir, that it would be best if I went away of my own accord; and I thought I'd just mention this matter to you when I called with the guard ring of your good lady that's dead and gone."

      "Quite right, quite right. And naturally you thought that I might be willing to lend you a hand on your way, partly out of feeling for you in your difficult position, and partly out of gratitude to you for your kind thoughtfulness in bringing me back the guard ring of poor Mrs. Grey."

      The white forefinger of the white left hand went on quietly describing the circles, but the circles were one after the other increasing in circumference. The white right hand still rested on the edge of the partly-open drawer.

      "That's it," said Farleg, with a sigh of relief. It was such a comfort to deal with a sensible man, a man who did most of the talking and thinking for you. "You know, sir, I found the rings – "

      "Quite so, quite so."

      Mr. Grey gave up describing circles, and for a while devoted himself to parallelograms. When he had finished each figure he regarded the invisible design for a while as though comparing the result of his labour with an ideal parallelogram. Then, becoming dissatisfied with his work, he began afresh.

      "Quite so," he repeated, after a silence of a few moments. "You need not trouble yourself to go into detail. In fact, I prefer you should not, as my feelings are still much occupied with my great loss. Will you answer a few questions that may help to allay and soothe my feelings?"

      He ceased drawing the parallelograms, and looked up at the other with a glance of friendly enquiry.

      Farleg threw himself back in his chair, and replied gravely: "I'll answer you, sir, any question it may please you to put."

      "At what hour on the evening of the 17th did you break into this house?"

      "Eight o'clock."

      "By Jove, Joe, you were an adventurous fellow to break into a house in daylight! I do think, in the face of such an enterprising spirit, you ought to seek a new country, where you would be properly appreciated. You have no chance here. Go to some place where the telegraph has not yet struck root. And yet for a man of your peculiar calling a dense population and civilisation are requisite. Your case, Joe, interests me a good deal, and, rely upon it, I shall always be glad to hear of your welfare and prosperity. I feel for you in your little difficulty, and I applaud your boldness. Fancy, breaking into a man's house at eight o'clock of an August evening! And how did you get in, Joe? I suppose by a ladder the workman had left against the wall?"

      "Yes, sir. It was seeing a ladder against the wall that put the idea into my head."

      The banker looked at Farleg with an expression of unlimited admiration.

      "What a general you would make, Joe!" cried Mr. Grey, in pleasant enthusiasm. "You would use every bulrush as cover for your men! And so, when you saw the ladder against the wall, you thought to yourself you might as well slip up that ladder and have a look round? What a pushing man of business too! And you were alone?"

      "Yes."

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