“A burglar and a thief,” said Mrs. Mortimer, who had by this time recovered all her wonted calmness. “Well—you are the more likely to aid me in my present embarrassment—I mean, in the recovery of my money: and, of course, you can dictate your own terms.”
“I am perfectly assured of that,” responded the Doctor, again grinning maliciously with his horrid hare-lip, which seemed as if it were about to split completely up his cheek. “But, at that same time, I admit with all possible candour that I cannot act alone in this business: and therefore you have that guarantee for my good faith.”
“But in what way do you propose to act?” demanded Mrs. Mortimer, anxious to arrive at a more satisfactory understanding with her hideous visitor.
“I will tell you,” answered Rily. “I am not known at this coffee-house; and therefore I came in just now to take some refreshment and read the paper. I saw you enter, and thought that yours was a countenance which denoted a soul alive to mischief. That was the impression you made upon me; for I must tell you that I am a bit of a phrenologist in my way. However, I had almost ceased to think of you, when I saw you come rushing out of the bar-parlour and bolt up-stairs like a mad woman. Then I marked your countenance again—and I was seized with admiration towards you on account of the horrible expression of your features. I said to myself that if ever I had beheld a she-fiend, I had seen one then.”
“I am much obliged to you for the compliment,” observed Mrs. Mortimer, drily.
“Let me tell my story in my own way, my dear madam,” exclaimed Jack Rily, with mock politeness. “Well, I saw you bolt up-stairs, and the landlady after you; and I knew that there must be something queer in the wind. So I waited quietly reading the paper until the landlady came down again; and then I went to the bar to pay my money. A question or two that I put elicited the information that you had been robbed by two fellows pretending to be officers having a search-warrant; and the landlady, in her garrulity, gave me a description of those individuals. One of them—the old man—I know nothing of: he is a complete stranger to me;—but the other I do know,—and what is more, I owe him a grudge—it matters not why or for what. I thereupon told the landlady that I thought I could help you in the matter; and before she had time to make any answer, I rushed up to your room to introduce myself to your notice.”
“Now I begin to understand you, Mr. Rily,” said the old woman. “You are acquainted with one of the robbers—you probably know his haunts—and you have a spite to vent upon him. Is this it?”
“Just so,” answered the burglar. “You must also learn that the reading which I had of your countenance convinced me that I might with safety tell you who and what I am: because I never have any child’s play in the business I am engaged in. If you want to get back your money, you must put confidence in me and act as I tell you; and the only way to make you trust me, is to let you know my real character. You see in me, then, a cracksman and a prig: but I am stanch to the back-bone amongst pals.”
“And on what terms do you propose to aid me?” demanded Mrs. Mortimer.
“How much have these fellows robbed you of?” asked Rily.