entice him to the saloon for as the day wore on he would meals, at first with some success; but latterly he had taken less and less notice of them, until on this day he had bluntly told them to go to hell and mind their own business. That was enough for Murray and Scrymgeour. Crude in some ways as they were, they had all the Scotch delicacy to wards intruding in other folks' affairs, and they retired into their rough shells at once, angry that they had laid themselves open to the rebuff. Yet they watched Charlie carefully, for there was something strange about him. They had anticipated that, as was usual with him, whisky would lighten his spirits, and that forget his rudeness and become jovial. Nothing of the kind happened. He sat silent in his corner, drinking insatiably, without any apparent change. At times he would look up in a strange startled fashion, and glance hastily around him. At such times he would drain the glass before him at a gulp, and order it to be refilled. It was uncanny. They knew that in the course of the day Charlie had consumed enough whisky to put both of themseasoned old topers as they were under the table. This was the position of affairs when the Honourable Stephen entered, newspaper in hand. CHAPTER XXII. Remembering his last interview with Charlie Conliffe, Cor was somewhat chary of meeting him again, and was relieved to find that after a startled glance up at his entry, Charlie fixed his eyes on the table before him, and seemed oblivious of the newcomer's presence. The Honourable Stephen joined the two two Scotchmen, whom he ignored contemptuously when it suited him, and produced his paper once more. They were not so stupidly unconscious of his behaviour towards them as he fancied. In fact, they had the advantage of him, for, aware of his con seat, his pale eyes looking up utter disgust at the man's wildly from under the heavy stupidity. "Don't you realise brows. Corris did not like the we've got a notorious thief look of him, but felt fairly among us? Why, man, it secure in the company of the might be me for all you know," Scotchmen. he concluded, hoping to arouse some interest. Scrymgeour read on to the end, then looked owlishly at Corris over the rims of his spectacles. "Weel?" he said, and continued to look. "It's a bit startling to find we've got a detective and a criminal aboard, eh?" suggested the Honourable Stephen, chagrined at the stolidity with which his story was received. "Are ye startled at a', Murray?" demanded Scrymgeour, turning slowly to his friend with a look of earnest inquiry. "No' that ye wad notice," replied Murray with equal solemnity. Scrymgeour removed his spectacles, and put them away in their case. Murray continued to smoke. Corris waited vainly for some show of interest. He had an idea that his news had not yet penetrated to the working parts of the notoriously dense brains that are characteristically Scotch, so he did not quickly give up hope. "I suppose you could make a guess at the identity of the pair?" he asked at last, exasperated by their continued silence. "If it's a conunderum, A'm nae guid at them," replied Scrymgeour woodenly. "Ye'd better ax Murray." "Good Lord!" exclaimed the Honourable Stephen, in VOL. CCIX.-NO. MCCLXVIII. "A wudna be surprised," agreed Scrymgeour, with a strange twinkle in his eyes. "Murray, ye're a wunnerful judge o' chairacter." "Dinna gi'e me a' the credit, man," replied Murray. "Man, d'ye no' mind? It was you that first had yer suspeecions. The first time ye saw him ye said that sich a meeserable shilpit body wud scunner the land ye manured wi' him." "Aye, but dae yersel' justice, Murray. It wus you that said that sae muckle vice an' deprrravity had never afore bin thrown thegither in ae human face. D'ye mind that " The Honourable Stephen was quite out of his depth. It did not occur to him that it was his own personality that was being discussed, and he was at a loss to know whether or not the Scotchmen had really solved the problem. So great was his belief in their stupidity that he could not conceive of them doing so except by mere chance. "Well now," he said, hoping to clear up the point, "who d'you think's Oxterham, and who's the detective ? " His interest in Murray and Scrymgeour had driven Charlie Conliffe from his mind. He was leaning forward eagerly, intent upon the sensation he counted upon creating, when 3 D entice him to the saloon for as the day wore on he would meals, at first with some suc- forget his rudeness and becess; but latterly he had he had come jovial. Nothing of the taken less and less notice of kind happened. He sat silent them, until on this day he in his corner, drinking insatihad bluntly told them to go ably, without any apparent to hell and mind their own change. At times he would business. look up in a strange startled fashion, and glance hastily around him. At such times he would drain the glass before him at a gulp, and order it to be refilled. That was enough for Murray and Scrymgeour. Crude in some ways as they were, they had all the Scotch delicacy to wards intruding in other folks' affairs, and they retired into their rough shells at once, angry that they had laid themselves open to the rebuff. Yet they watched Charlie carefully, for there was something strange about him. They had anticipated that, as was usual with him, whisky would lighten his spirits, and that It was uncanny. They knew that in the course of the day Charlie had consumed enough whisky to put both of them— seasoned old topers as they were under the table. This was the position of affairs when the Honourable Stephen entered, newspaper in hand. CHAPTER XXII. Remembering his last interview with Charlie Conliffe, Corris was somewhat chary of meeting him again, and was relieved to find that after a startled glance up at his entry, Charlie fixed his eyes on the table before him, and seemed oblivious of the newcomer's presence. The Honourable Stephen joined the two two Scotchmen, whom he ignored contemptuously when it suited him, and produced his paper once more. They were not so stupidly unconscious of his behaviour towards them as he fancied. In fact, they had the advantage of him, for, aware of his con tempt, they had an even deeper contempt for him, of which he was entirely unaware, and quite incapable of perceiving. "Seen our latest sensation!" He passed the paper to Scrymgeour, who, with great deliberation, produced a pair of spectacles, and arranged them on his large red-veined nose. "Read it oot," said Murray economically. With the slow measured solemnity which he had learnt in the Parish Kirk in his youth, Scrymgeour delivered the para graph aloud. Corris glanced nervously at Charlie Conliffe, who stirred uneasily in his he was driven to a paroxysm of the smoking-room with a of fear by the sudden up- sigh of relief. starting of Conliffe from his seat. "You brought the detective aboard, blast you," he shouted hoarsely, mingled terror and rage in his eyes. "I bin watchin' for him him all day, but the knows better than come near me. He can't prove it, I tell you; he can't prove it." Charlie was livid. The drink that he had consumed had ceased to have power over his body, and had concentrated upon his mind. It is a common feature in such cases. "What did you want to butt in for anyhow, you little swine?" he shouted, his harsh voice rising to a raucous screech. "God! I'll shake the liver out of you!" He made a mad dive across the room, and would certainly have tried to carry out his threat-however impossible of accomplishment it may appear -had not Murray and Scrymgeour rushed forward and taken hold of him. "He's awa' at last," murmured Scrymgeour to his friend. "It's nae mair nor A expecit," replied Murray shortly. Charlie struggled helplessly in their strong hands, cursing and spitting like a cat at the terrified Corris. "Ye'd better clear oot, ma man," advised Murray. "We'll never quate him as lang as ye're within his reach." The Honourable Stephen was not loath to go. He slipped out "Sit ye doon, laddie. There's naebody efter ye the noo," said Murray, and between them they guided Charlie to a seat, and placed themselves on either side of him. A meaning look passed between them, and their rough faces expressed their fear of trouble to come. Charlie Conliffe trembled violently. His teeth chattered, he whimpered with terror, and his pale eyes protruded as they stared at the closed door. "He's trying to come in," he whispered, with difficulty controlling his lips to utter the words. "Hold the door, for God's sake. Keep him out! Keep him out! " He struggled to get to the door and throw his weight upon it, but Murray and Scrymgeour held him back in his seat. "It's a' richt, laddie," said Scrymgeour soothingly. "We'll no' let him hairm ye. Juist sit quate an' pu' yersel' thegither." Charlie breathed heavily and shuddered. The two Scotchmen thought the paroxysm was over, when suddenly he started up with a wild shriek. "Look at them!" he yelled, pointing a palsied finger at a spot where several tin-caps from soda-water bottles glittered on the floor. "I never brought them here. Hide them, for God's sake-hide them! If he catches me near them I'm done." |