“What on earth are you talking about?”
“I’ve seen him home when it’s been necessary after the places were closed, and sometimes,” Spanswick admitted this grudgingly, “sometimes of course, he’s seen me ’ome when it’s been necessary. He’s told me things about his early boyhood; I’ve told him things about my early boyhood. If I’ve had more tobacco in me pouch than he has, he’s always been welcome to a pipeful. I got him the best berth he ever had in all his born days—”
“And outed me from it,” remarked Erb. “What—?”
“But don’t it jest shew you,” demanded Spanswick eagerly, “how the very best of us can sometimes be taken in? I’m looked on as a man who knows enough to come in when it rains, and I certainly pride myself more on taking in others than being took in meself. And here am I, in me fortysecond year—”
“Barnes!” called the voice of the Labour M.P. from the office, “come here!”
Spanswick went on growling to himself as Erb left him and entered the office.
“The books do not appear to have been touched since you left,” said the white-haired man. “Not a figure, not a letter.”
“Then he can’t be accused of tampering with ’em.”
“How much cash did you leave in the safe?” Erb showed the sum at the foot of a page in the accounts book. “I’ve half a mind,” said the Labour M.P., in a determined way, that suggested he was making an understatement, “I have half a mind to break it open!”
“Wouldn’t it be better to give him a chance of coming back?”