But he could not work that afternoon.
In vain he dashed in his background and outlined the long curves of the
Roman galleys. Do what he would, his mind would still wander from his
work to dwell upon his conversation with the vicar in the morning. His
imagination was fascinated by the idea of this strange man living alone
amid a crowd, and yet wielding such a power that with one dash of
his pen he could change sorrow into joy, and transform the condition of
a whole parish. The incident of the fifty-pound note came back to his
mind. It must surely have been Raffles Haw with whom Hector Spurling
had come in contact. There could not be two men in one parish to whom
so large a sum was of so small an account as to be thrown to a
bystander in return for a trifling piece of assistance. Of course, it
must have been Raffles Haw. And his sister had the note, with
instructions to return it to the owner, could he be found. He threw
aside his palette, and descending into the sitting-room he told Laura
and his father of his morning's interview with the vicar, and of his
conviction that this was the man of whom Hector was in quest.
"Tut! Tut!" said old McIntyre. "How is this, Laura? I knew nothing of
this. What do women know of money or of business? Hand the note over
to me and I shall relieve you of all responsibility.
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