“We didn’t know what else to think,” answered Roy in a low voice.
“And you were going to sit up all night to make sure that I didn’t run off with the silver?”
The smile that accompanied these words was a very sad one. Then the face grew suddenly grave again and without waiting for Roy to make a response to his awkward question, Mr. Keeler continued:
“I don’t blame you for thinking that brother Martin and I were one and the same person. He is only a year younger than I and people could never tell us apart when we were boys. I remember we used to help them out by wearing sleeve buttons, an M on his and a C on mine.
“We were left orphans when very young, and Mart began to go to the bad at once. It commenced with robbing birds’ nests and orchards, and ended with the confidence game for which he was last sent to jail. That is the reason I use my pen name always. I wonder if you believe what I am telling you.”
“Yes, Mr. Keeler, I do,” responded Roy heartily.
“I am sorry I stayed,” went on the author. “I should not have run the risk. I had had nobody to vouch for me here, you see. I will go away now if you say so.”
“Oh, no, no! I am so sorry it happened. It was only the merest chance we found out anything about it. It’s all right now.”
Involuntarily Roy put out his hand. The other took it with a glad light in his eyes. Then Roy turned out the lamp and they both went up stairs.
It was many a week before the young people of the Pell family ceased to talk among themselves over their singular experience with Mr. Charles Keeler. He left on the nine o’clock express the next morning, and everybody had been pleasant to him at the breakfast table except Jess, who did not come down.