“It was sent out blindly, with not one chance in a hundred that it would ever reach me.”
“To be sure. You were a wanderer on the face of the earth, and there was nobody in America to look after your interests. You may be sure that the place was thoroughly ransacked while you were sailing home. I’ll wager you the best dinner you ever ate that there’s more at stake than your grandfather’s money. The situation is inspiring. I grow interested. I’m almost persuaded to linger.”
CHAPTER XX
A TRIPLE ALLIANCE
Larry refused to share my quarters and chose a room for himself, which Bates fitted up out of the house stores. I did not know what Bates might surmise about Larry, but he accepted my friend in good part, as a guest who would remain indefinitely. He seemed to interest Larry, whose eyes followed the man inquiringly. When we went into Bates’ room on our tour of the house, Larry scanned the books on a little shelf with something more than a casual eye. There were exactly four volumes,—Shakespeare’s Comedies, The Faerie Queen, Sterne’s Sentimental Journey and Yeats’ Land of Heart’s Desire.
“A queer customer, Larry. Nobody but my grandfather could ever have discovered him—he found him up in Vermont.”
“I suppose his being a bloomin’ Yankee naturally accounts for this,” remarked Larry, taking from under the pillow of the narrow iron bed a copy of the Dublin Freeman’s Journal.
“It is a little odd,” I said. “But if you found a Yiddish newspaper or an Egyptian papyrus under his pillow I should not be surprised.”
“Nor I,” said Larry. “I’ll wager that not another shelf in this part of the world contains exactly that collection of books, and nothing else. You will notice that there was once a book-plate in each of these volumes and that it’s been scratched out with care.”
On a small table were pen and ink and a curious much-worn portfolio.