“No, I won’t,” laughed he. “But speaking of robberies, I wish you would tell me about that great one which happened to you. It was when I was too young to know anything about it. I have a particular reason for asking. If you are able, that is.”
“Why shouldn’t I be able? It is never out of my mind, night nor day. There was always a mystery in it. Yet I would have trusted him as I trusted myself. More than I would dare trust anybody now, even you, my son.”
The man was thoroughly aroused, at last. Adrian began to question if he had done right in saying what would move him so, knowing that all excitement was apt to be followed by a “spell,” during which he acted like a man in a dream, though never sleeping.
But he resumed the conversation, voluntarily, and Adrian listened intently.
“He was a poor boy from a country farm. Your mother and the girls, were boarding at his home. I went up for Sundays, for I liked his horses. I never felt I could afford to own one—— Don’t buy a horse, Adrian!”
“No, father. Not yet. I’m rather more anxious to buy a certain moose I know and present it to the city Zoo. King Madoc. You remember I told you about the trained animal, who would swim and tow a boat, and could be harnessed to draw a sleigh?”
“Umm. Indeed? Remarkable. Quite remarkable. But I wouldn’t do it, boy. The gift would not be appreciated. Nobody ever does appreciate anything. It is a selfish world. A selfish world, and an ungrateful one.”
“Not wholly, father, I hope.”
“We were talking. What about? I—my memory—so much care, and the difficulty of keeping secrets. It’s hard to keep everything to one’s self when a man grows old, Adrian.”
“Yes, father dear. But I’m at home now to stay. You must trust me more and rely upon me. Believe me, I will deserve your confidence. But it was the boy from the farm you were telling me of, and the horses.”