Larry scratched his head and suddenly he pulled a long face. “Now I come to think av ut, I belave I did, sor.”
“I believe you did too, Larry,” I laughed.
“Has she been in here, sor?” he asked more anxiously, glancing about the room.
“She has that!” I told him.
For once Larry was completely crestfallen. “Faith, sor, I’ll never belave a woman again!” he said.
Chapter XI.
Black Friday
I sent Larry to get some lunch ready, and in the interval went over my papers again to be sure that nothing else was missing. I had nothing that could possibly involve me in the eyes of the gang, as I had long since destroyed the Chief’s letter and I decided that Mrs. Fawcette’s visit must have been entirely fruitless. But a vague uneasiness sent me on a further search for the card-case, and when Larry arrived with the lunch I questioned him about it.
“Twas there yesterday, sor. Maybe ye wud have slipped it into a pocket, the way ye wud be lavin’ a cyard on wan av thim ladies, sor. For ’tis not here now.”
“I can see it isn’t, thank you very much,” I told him, “And it’s not in a pocket either, I’ve looked.”
Larry grinned. Then, as he circled the table, his stubby hands full of dishes, his eyes lost their sparkle and his face settled into painful lines of thought.