'Get away from there, Martin!' called the big man peremptorily. 'I'll ring again when I want you. Clear out now! It's otherwise engaged I am.'
'Very well, sir,' came the muffled and somewhat wondering reply.
Staring solemnly at one another, the two in the bedroom stood silent while the invisible Martin's steps receded slowly along the hall and began to descend the stairs.
'And for why will you not take my hand?' demanded the giant with a frown that was bewildered, rather than angry.
The man with the bruised head laughed. 'I can't-can't-' Unable to control his voice, he lapsed into miserable silence.
The giant's frown deepened. He drew back a little, hitching the robe up over his bare shoulders.
'What is it ails you, Bobby? Here I'm glad to see you the way I cannot find words to tell it and you will not take my hand! Did you get my letter, and is this a surprise visit? You're welcome, however you've come!'
But the other shrank still closer against the door, while his pallid face grew actually gray. 'May I-may I sit down?' he gasped. He was swaying like a drunken man, and his knees seemed to have no strength left in them.
'Sit down! But you may indeed.' Trenmore sprang instantly to help him to the nearest chair, one arm about his shoulder in a gentle, kindly pressure. 'Tell me now, did you really get my letter?'
'What letter?'
'Then you did not. What ails you, man? You're white as the banshee herself! Is it bad hurt you are, and you not telling me?'
'No-yes. A trifle. It is not that.'
'What, then? Have you been ill? Here, take a drop o' the brandy, lad. That's it. A fool could see you're a deathly sick man this minute.'
Trenmore's voice was tender as only a woman's or an Irishman's can be; but Drayton shrank away as if its kindness only hurt him the more.
'Don't speak that way!' he cried harshly, and buried his face in his hands.
Very wonderingly, his host laughed and again put his arm about the other's bowed shoulders. 'And why not, then?' he asked gently. 'I should, perhaps, like to know why you bolt into my room in the early morn, bang to my door behind yourself, and then try to repel my hospitable reception; but you need tell me nothing. For me 'tis enough that you're here at all, whom I've been wanting to see this long while more than any other lad in the world.'
'Stop it, I say!' cried Drayton, and raised his head abruptly. His pale face had flushed deeply, and he seemed to flinch at the sound of his own words. 'I can't-can't take your welcome. I came here as a thief, Terry Trenmore! And for no other reason.'
The Irishman's blue eyes flashed wide.
'A thief?' He laughed shortly. 'And pray what of mine did you wish to steal, friend Bobby? Name the thing and it's yours!'
'Terry, I'm not off my head, as you think. Haven't any such excuse. I tell you, I'm a thief. Plain, ugly t-h-i-e-f, thief. I entered this particular house only because I found a way in. I didn't know it was your house.'
In the midst of speech Drayton paused and started suddenly to his feet. 'Good Lord!' he exclaimed. 'I had half forgotten. Terry, I wasn't the only-er-burglar here last night!'
'And what are you meaning now?'
'Your safe was opened!'
Ere he could finish the sentence Trenmore had turned, crossed the room, and was pushing aside a silken curtain, hung from ceiling to floor, near the bed. It disclosed a squared, nickeled-steel door, set flush with the wall. After a moment's scrutiny he turned a freshly bewildered face to his visitor. 'Broken open? But it's not! My poor boy, you are out of your mind this morning. It's a doctor you are needing.'
'No, no. I don't mean that one. I mean the safe upstairs, in the small room at the front.'
'Is there one there?' queried Trenmore. 'I didn't know of it.'
'What! This isn't your own place, then?'
The giant shook his head, smiling. 'For why would you be expecting to find Terence Trenmore tied to a house of his own? It belongs to my cousin, on the mother's side, whom I'll be glad for you to know, though he's not here now. But you say there's been robbery done above-stairs?'
'I'm not exactly sure. There was something so strange about it all. Come up there with me, Terry, and look for yourself.'
Either because of the brandy he had swallowed, or because the first shame and shock of confession were over, Drayton seemed to have recovered some measure of strength. He led the way upstairs to the front bedroom, and answered the Irishman's question with a slow gesture toward the violated safe. Trenmore stood thoughtfully over the neglected pile of papers and more or less valuable jewelry, hands thrust deep in the pockets of his bathrobe, brows drawn in a reflective scowl. 'And what,' he asked, 'were they like, these queer thieves that left their plunder behind them?'
'I didn't see them.'
'What?'
Drayton's boyish, sensitive mouth quivered. 'If you don't believe me, I can't blame you, of course. By Heaven, I think it would be a relief if you would call in the police, Terry, and end the whole rotten affair that way. I wish with all my heart that they'd put me where they put my partner, poor old Warren!'
'And where is that? It's riddles you're talking.'
'First in jail and now in his grave,' answered Drayton grimly.
The Irishman flung back his great, black-maned head angrily-
'Bobby, my boy, we've had enough of that make of talk! I can see with half an eye that much has happened of which I know nothing, for I've been back in old Ireland this two years past. But for what sort of scoundrel do you take me, to throw over the man I've best liked in my whole life, and just because he chances to be in a bit of trouble? As I said before, 'tis a doctor you are needing, not a policeman. As for this,' he pointed to the rifled safe, 'it was my thought that you did things here last night of which you have now no memory. Others here? 'Tis not in the bounds of reason that two different thieves-pardon the word; it's your own-should honor this house in one night!'
By way of reply, Drayton removed his hat, and for the first time Trenmore saw the ugly wound its low-drawn brim had concealed. 'They gave me that,' said Drayton simply. 'The room,' he continued, 'was dark. I came over the roofs and down through the first transom I found unfastened. I had just entered this room and discovered the safe when they, whoever they were, came on me from behind and knocked me out.'
Trenmore's lips drew in with a little sympathetic sound. 'Ah, and so that's why you're so white and all! But tell me, was the safe open then?'
'No. They must have done the trick afterward. I was left lying on that bed. And I may as well tell you that this morning, when I found myself alone here and that stuff on the floor, I was going to-was going to finish what they had begun.'
'And what stopped you?' Trenmore eyed him curiously from beneath lowered brows.
'This.' Stooping, Drayton picked up the thing he had flung so desperately away half an hour earlier. It was a thin gold cigarette case, plain save for a monogram done in inlaid platinum.
Trenmore looked, and nodded slowly.
'Your own gift to me, Bobby. I think a power o' that case. But how came it there, I wonder? The other day I mislaid it. Likely Jim found it and put it here while I was in Atlantic City yesterday. When I returned Jim had been called away. I wonder he did not put it in the wall safe, though, that he lent me the use of; but all that's no matter. What did you do after finding the case?'
'I tried to get out, but the transom had been fastened down from above. So I made for the front door. Your servant intercepted me, and I–I hid in your room, hoping he would pass on by.'
'And that's the one piece of good luck you had, my boy!' cried Trenmore. Grasping Drayton's shoulder with one great hand, he shook him gently to and fro, as if he had been the child he seemed beside his huge friend.
'Don't look like that now! I'm not so easy shocked, and if you've seen fit to turn burglar, Bob Drayton, I'm only sure 'tis for some very good cause. And let you arrive through the roof or by the front door, it makes no
