“Explains what?”
“Furneaux’s visit to Siddle, and certain bulky parcels brought in and brought out again.”
“Queer little duck, Furneaux,” said Hart. “Now that my mind is at ease about the immediate future of the biggest rascal in Venezuela I can take an active part in Steynholme affairs once more. When it’s all through I’ll make a novel of it, dashed if I don’t, with the postmaster’s daughter in the three-color process as a frontispiece.”
“But who will be the villain?” said Peters.
Hart waved the negro-head pipe at the other three.
“Draw lots. I am indifferent,” he said.
Chapter XVII.
An Official Housebreaker
No word bearing on the main topic in these men’s minds was said during dinner. Grant was attentive to his guests, but markedly silent, almost distrait. Two such talkers as Hart and Peters, however, covered any gaps in this respect. Cigars and pipes were in evidence, and, horrible though it may sound in the ears of a gourmet, the port was circulating, when Winter turned and gazed at the small window.
“Is that where the ghost appears!” he inquired.
“Yes,” said Grant. “You know the whole story, of course?”