Page:The Atlantic Monthly Volume 1.djvu/721

"I am afraid, Ma'am," says I, "that you have not hit on any little criminating discovery in the lodger's room?"

She shook her head and sighed. It was a soft, languid, fluttering sigh,—and, upon my life, it quite upset me. For the moment, I forgot business, and burned with envy of Mr. Yarman.

"Don't despair, Ma'am," I said, with an insinuating mildness which seemed to touch her. "I have heard a mysterious conversation,—I know of a guilty ap-pointment,—and I expect great things from my Peep-Hole and my Pipe-Hole to-night. Pray, don't be alarmed, but I think we are on the brink of a discov-ery."

Here my enthusiastic devotion to busi-ness got the better of my tender feelings. I looked,—winked,—nodded,—left her.

When I got back to my observatory, I found Mr. Jay digesting his mutton-chops in an arm-chair with his pipe in his mouth. On his table were two tum-blers, a jug of water, and the pint-bottle of brandy. It was then close upon seven o'clock. As the hour struck, the person described as "Jack" walked in.

He looked agitated. I am happy to say he looked violently agitated. The cheerful glow of anticipated success dif-fused itself (to use a strong expression) all over me, from head to foot. With breathless interest I looked through my Peep-Hole, and saw the visitor—the "Jack" of this delightful case—sit down, facing me, at the opposite side of the table to Mr. Jay. Making allowance for the difference in 'expression which their countenances just now happened to ex-hibit, these two abandoned villains were so much alike in other respects as to lead at once to the conclusion that they were brothers. Jack was the cleaner man and the better-dressed of the two. I admit that, at the outset. It is, perhaps, one of my failings to push justice and impartiality to their utmost limits. I am no Pharisee; and where Vice has its re-deeming point, I say, let Vice have its due,—yes, yes, by all manner of means, let Vice have its due.

"What's the matter now, Jack?" says Mr. Jay.

"Can't you see it in my face?" says Jack. "My dear fellow, delays are dan-gerous. Let us have done with sus-pense, and risk it, the day after to-mor-row."

"So soon as that?" cries Mr. Jay, looking very much astonished. "Well, I'm ready, if you are. But, I say, Jack, is Somebody Else ready, too? Are you quite sure of that?"

He smiled, as he spoke,—a frightful smile,—and laid a very strong emphasis on those two words, "Somebody Else." There is evidently a third ruffian, a nameless desperado, concerned in the business.

"Meet us to-morrow," says Jack, "and judge for yourself. Be in the Regent's Park at eleven in the morning, and look out for us at the turning that leads to the Avenue Road."

"I'll be there," says Mr. Jay. "Have a drop of brandy and water. What are you getting up for? You're not going already?"

"Yes, I am," says Jack. "The fact is, I'm so excited and agitated, that I can't sit still anywhere for five minutes together. Ridiculous as it may appear to you, I'm in a perpetual state of nervous flutter. I can't, for the life of me, help fearing that we shall be found out. I fancy that every man who looks twice at me in the street is a spy."

At those words, I thought my legs would have given way under me. Nothing but strength of mind kept me at my Peep-Hole,—nothing else, I give you my word of honor.

"Stuff and nonsense!" cries Mr. Jay, with all the effrontery of a veteran in crime. "We have kept the secret up to this time, and we will manage cleverly to the end. Have a drop of brandy and water, and you will feel certain about it as I do."

Jack steadily refused the brandy and water, and steadily persisted in taking his leave. "I must try if I can't walk it off," he said. "Remember to-morrow