“I don’t exactly like to trust Harry up-stairs,” remarked Baxter, in a surly tone, after he had securely tied the mouth of the bag. “He is too soft. Like as not he’ll go and git sentimental over a picture or somethin’, or maybe git a-thinkin’ of his mother, and leave half the ornyments.”
Graham, who had just opened a pearl inlaid secretaire, and was possessing himself of numerous valuable trinkets, laughed softly, as he replied:
“I don’t think so, Jim. Only yesterday I gave the boy a good talking to, and he promised to attend strictly to business in future. You must remember he is young, and, unless we give him a chance, how is he to learn? Of course, if there was a young girl in the house—but there isn’t,” he added quickly, observing the wrathful frown on his companion’s face. “I made certain that the only people who sleep in the house are Mr. Braithwait and the housekeeper, who is rather old and nearly deaf; the rest of the family are in Florida for their health. If Braithwait makes a disturbance I reckon Harry can settle him without any sentimental nonsense.”
“I’d settle him,” muttered Baxter, surlily.
“You’re a savage, Jim,” said Graham, reproachfully. “How often have I told you that there is no virtue in violence. Haven’t I convinced you that the easy way is the safe way?”
“Yah! Don’t give me no more of that!” said Baxter, contemptuously. “I ain’t no missionary.”
At this juncture, when the argument threatened to develop into a quarrel, peace was restored by the reappearance of the young burglar, carrying a considerable quantity of jewelry, loose and in boxes, while he softly whistled “M’Appari.”
“Not a bad haul,” observed Graham, turning over the plunder as it lay on the table. “Two watches?”
“They’re them little tickers what the girls carry,” said Baxter, scornfully. “We won’t get two dollars apiece for ’em.”