“Wal, I guess so, I never was one to let the grass grow under my feet.”
“Ah,” thought Peace, “when will he have done. I am on tenter-hooks.” Then aloud he said, “I am greatly interested in your narrative—pray proceed, sir.”
“All right,” returned the American, “I’ll jest git this darned weed to draw and be hanged to it. The Britishers always roll their cigars up too tight. It’s a way they’ve got, I suppose.”
“Take another,” said Peace.
“No, he’s all right now, thank you.” Mr. Shearman then proceeded.
“I had not the remotest conception how Mr. Wareham became acquainted with John Brown’s secret, but one thing I was sure of, and that was that the aforesaid gentleman was a consummate scoundrel.
“In order to understand his character better, and to see with whom I was contesting, I applied to an intelligent officer who was acquainted with almost all the thieves, vagabonds, and rogues in the city.
“The reply I received confirmed my suspicions. Wareham was well known to the police under a dozen of aliases. He had been convicted, and I resolved that he should be so again if there was any virtue in an indictment for conspiracy to defraud.
“I watched the two men carefully for some days, and at last I gained some information upon which I determined to act. They had planned an elaborate robbery between them, and Mr. Wareham’s habitual prudence was so far overruled that he consented to take an active part in it.
“Those letters which were registered on account of their containing valuables were also placed in a bag by themselves. Of course there were different bags for different places, but the Cincinnati bag was always a bulky one; they determined to appropriate the contents of that one.