Leicester wrung the youth's hand. They both arose.
"If you are going to the counting-room, I will accompany you," he said, "my business must be negotiated with your firm."
"I was first going to my room," said Robert.
"No matter, I will walk slowly—by the way, here is your old copy-book; I have just been examining it. Those were pleasant evenings, my boy, when I taught you how to use the pen."
"Yes," said Robert, receiving the book, "my dear aunt claims the old copies as a sort of heir-loom. I remembered your wish to see it, and so took it quietly away. I really think she would not have given it up, even to you."
"Then she did not know when you took it?"
"No, I had forgotten it, and so stole down in the night. She was sound asleep, and I came away very early in the morning."
"Dear old lady," said Leicester, smiling; "you must return her treasure before it is missed. Stay; fold your cloak over it. I shall see you again directly."
Leicester's bed-chamber communicated with another small room, which was used as a dressing-closet. From some caprice he had draped the entrance with silken curtains such as clouded the windows. Scarcely had he left the room when this drapery was flung aside, revealing the door which had evidently stood open during his interview with Robert Otis.