“After I am dead? I never thought of that. After I’m dead,” he repeated. “Child, a conscience like yours is top-heavy. Still, I’ll mull it over. I can’t take ’em to the grave with me, that’s 282 a fact. But my ghost is bound to get leg-weary doing the rounds to view them again. What do you say, Denny?”
“If you don’t, I will!”
Cleigh chuckled.
“That makes it unanimous. I’ll put it in the codicil. But while I live! Benson, what did these men look like? One of them limp?”
“No, sir. Ordinary trucking men, I should say, sir.”
“The infernal scoundrel! No message?”
“No, sir. The man who rang the bell said he had some cases for you, and asked where he should put them. I thought the hall the best place, sir, temporarily.”
“The infernal scoundrel!”
“What the dickens is the matter with you, Father!” demanded Dennison. “You’ve got back the loot.”
“But how? The story, Denny! The rogue leaves me ’twixt wind and water as to how he got out of this hole.”