The young man’s air was candid and amused. There was an underlying gravity beneath the smile, and for people who had believed in him as devoutly as his two listeners it was hard to disbelieve him now.
‘You’ve gone into the infernal hole,’ said old Brown, more than half abandoning suspicion, and yet inclined to leave it growlingly, as a dog might surrender a bone he conceived himself to have a right to. ‘What do you want there?’
‘I want to do a very important stroke of business there, sir,’ Philip answered. The smile quite disappeared from his eyes at this moment, and he looked very grimly resolute. ‘I will tell you this much,’ he added, ‘because you have a right to know it. I am in pursuit of a brace of scoundrels there. I think I’ve salted the tail of one of ‘em already. I believe with all my heart, sir, that I’m going to clear my father’s character, and I would go into worse places than the Pigeon Trap if I saw my way to doing that.’
Patty of course was clinging to him without disguise by this time, anxious only to atone for having given an ear to any word against him, even for a moment. Phil put his arm about her waist and kissed her. He had never to his knowledge performed this act in the presence of a third person until now, but he got through it without embarrassment.
‘You think you can clear your father’s character?’ asked his sweetheart’s father. There was a tinge of scepticism in his voice, though he tried to hide it.
‘Yes, sir,’ said Phil, his head thrown back a little, and his eyes gleaming. Nobody had ever looked so handsome to Patty’s fancy as he did at that moment ‘I know already that there was no real stain upon his honour, and I’m surprised myself for thinking that there ever could have been, bad as things looked. My father never took wrongful possession of your money. He was robbed of it, and I think I can lay my hand upon the thief.’
There was a prodigious excitement at this declaration, and the young man was overwhelmed with questions. He could name no names, of course, and give no clue, but he sketched the story. He contented himself by describing young Barter as Thief Number One, and he was satisfied to describe Steinberg as Probable Thief Number Two. He had learned, it appeared, that Thief Number One had succeeded on his father’s death to a carefully limited partnership in a business affair in the city. The guiding spirit in the concerns of Thief Number One had been his father’s managing clerk. The income of Thief Number One was strictly limited, and his actual control over the affairs of the firm was non-existent. Notwithstanding these facts, the young man was guilty of countless extravagances, and was a reckless gambler. Within the last twelve months he could hardly have paid away at the club less than a thousand pounds. He had been extremely hard up before the loss of the money, and it was in his offices that the roll of banknotes had been lost. As for Probable Thief Number Two, he played rook to Number One’s pigeon. He had a visible hold upon him; Number One trembled before him, and did what he was bidden to do. Number Two had plenty of money, and as shady a reputation as any man in London who was not among the known criminal classes. Phil’s belief was that Number Two was disposing of the notes for Number One, and that this simple fact accounted for his power over him.
‘And I’m going to follow their track,’ said Phil, tapping the clenched knuckles of his right hand upon the open palm of his left with a quiet vehemence, ‘until I find out everything, if I follow it until I am gray.’