“Keep dark—say nothing about the subject to anyone. Hear, but say nothing.”
“Trust me for that. You must manage your matters better next time; this has been a most unfortunate business; but never mind, you are out of the fire. I would offer to take charge of your place myself, but have other matters to attend to, and even if this were not the case it would not be prudent for me to risk being seen here.”
“Certainly not—I do not desire you to do so. You’ve said enough, Laura. I’m sorry any act of mine should have placed you in jeopardy, but there is now no reason for your being alarmed. You had better not remain any longer. Should I want to see you I will send a letter, and make an appointment for a meeting at some other place.”
“Don’t you think I am complaining, Charlie, or am likely to desert you. All that I can do to serve you at any time you may count on. Even now I don’t like to leave you to shift for yourself, but I don’t think they’ve got the faintest clue. The coat and hat are at the station, so I’ve heard, but they’ve not been able to trace their owner. So be of good cheer, old man, and better luck next time,” said Laura Stanbridge, as she took her leave.
In less than two hours after her departure Bandy-legged Bill, the gipsy, dropped in.
Peace was very glad to see him, and recounted all the incidents of the attempted burglary at the jeweller’s, which the gipsy listened to with evident interest.
“We’ll dodge them even if they do find their way here,” exclaimed the gipsy. “Let us consider what is to be done in this matter. Two heads are better than one.”
CHAPTER XLVIII.
JANE RYAN—THE CLOSE OF A TROUBLED LIFE.
We must turn back to earlier scenes in our narrative that we may gather up the tangled threads of this tale.