“There has been a change in my circumstances of late.”
“I should think so! Then you are the Marquis of Wycliffe?”
“Yes. What did you expect to find here in the way of plunder?”
“I may as well own up, I suppose, since I’m where I can’t help myself,” the man replied, recklessly. “I was after the family jewels, which I was told were kept here.”
“They are not here. I had them deposited in the treasure vault more than a month ago. There was only a little money in my safe, for I had paid off my help only yesterday; so you see, my friend, you have had your sin and risked your life for nothing,” Earle said, gravely.
Tom Drake swore savagely again at this information.
“Do not be profane—indeed I must request you to drop that sort of talk while you are here,” Earle said, with decision.
“And you really don’t mean to send me to the hospital?”
“No, indeed. I do not need to tell you that you have a long, hard job before you from the wound my ball gave you, and that it will be a good while before you will get about again.”
Earle thought he might as well talk of things just as they were. Tom Drake nodded assent, a look of grim endurance on his ugly face.