“Oh, that’s naething, sir—I’ll put back the soot mysel’,” smoothly and graciously answered the sweep. “Dinna disturb yoursel’, sir; I’ll see ye up that stair, for it’s very dark and narrow. This way, sir; this way.”
He quickly made for the stair, but I paused before following, and exchanged a look of inquiry with McSweeny. The wife, squatted by the fire with a pipe in her mouth, watched us furtively out of the corner of her eye. That sly, cautious glance decided me. The sweep had shown a trifle too much alacrity in wishing to bid us good-bye and see us out. I stood still and conversed in a low tone with McSweeny. The sweep looked back from the doorway somewhat anxiously.
“We’re not quite ready yet,” I quietly said; “we must put things as we got them.” Then I added with apparent coolness to McSweeny, “Shovel it back carefully.”
The face of the sweep, sooty though it was, showed a visible and concerned change as I spoke, and I felt that I had scored a point.
“I’ll help you, sir; I’ve another shovel here,” he cried with alacrity after the first stagger, pouncing on a shovel and approaching the soot heap.
“Thank you—no,” I coldly and sternly returned, pointing to a seat by the fire; “sit there till I tell you to rise.”
He sat down, or rather flopped down, with an attempt at a gracious grin, and, taking the pipe from his wife, began puffing fiercely, watching us anxiously all the while. McSweeny slowly and deliberately shovelled up the soot in small quantities, according to my directions, narrowly inspecting it as it was returned to the bin, and before the half of the soot had been so lifted he paused to inspect a soot-covered object which had got into one of these small shovelfuls. I was at his side in a moment; and as the glitter of metal caught my eye I glanced towards the sweep and saw that he was painfully anxious to look indifferent. The object, when cleared of soot, proved to be a small handle of gilt brass, fastened to a flat piece of ivory, on which was some neat carving. The four eyes at the fireside were goggling, like distended telescopes, at us as we stood clearing the strange object of soot.
“What’s this?” I sharply demanded of the sweep.
“That, sir?” and he took a stride or two forward to look at the fragment. “I’m sure I dinna ken; it’s a thing ane o’ the bairns found oot on the street and brought in to play wi’.”
Sandy’s face said “lie” all over in spite of the soot as he made the hurried answer, and I said nothing. Every thief has “found” these things, or had them given him, or innocently brought into his house by some third person not conveniently at hand. After a close inspection of the fragment I was inclined to think that it had formed part of the lid of an ivory box or casket. No such article was in our list so far as I could remember; but the expression of the sweep’s face and his general manner induced me to say that I would take the fragment with me.