He looked meaningly at the younger man, and, flushing a little, Rodney said, “That’s right,—Mr Wise. I couldn’t make it good if I lost it. Take it.”
And with no further security than the detective’s word, Granniss handed over the money.
He went to his train in a most perturbed spirit. Had he done right or not? It all depended on the fidelity of the detective. To be sure, Granniss had every confidence in him, but the sum of money was so large that it might well prove a temptation to hitherto impeccable honesty.
He boarded his train, still uncertain of the wisdom of his course, and more uncertain as to what Mrs Varian would say.
But, he reasoned, if they were to employ the services of one of the best and best known detectives in the country, it was surely right to obey his first bit of advice.
This thought comforted Granniss somewhat, and he was further comforted by an event which took place that night, and which proved the wisdom of the detective’s advice.
Granniss was asleep in his lower berth when the merest feeling of a cautious movement above awakened him.
He could hear no sound, but through half-dosed eyes, he saw the occupant of the berth above crawl silently down and stealthily reach for Rodney’s clothes, which were folded at the foot of the berth.
Interested rather than afraid, Granniss watched the performance, keeping his own eyes nearly closed. It was too dark for him to see the marauder, who worked entirely by feeling, and who swiftly examined the clothing of his victim and then turned his attention to his bag.
Still Granniss made no sign, for he preferred to see the chagrin of the robber rather than to interrupt him at his work.