Your poor old father isn't quite a
fool, though he is only an honest broken merchant." He looked up
sideways at his son with a wink and a most unpleasant leer. "Where
there's money I can smell it. There's money there, and heaps of it.
It's my belief that he is the richest man in the world, though how he
came to be so I should not like to guarantee. I'm not quite blind yet,
Robert. Have you seen the weekly waggon?"
"The weekly waggon!"
"Yes, Robert. You see I can find some news for you yet. It is due this
morning. Every Saturday morning you will see the waggon come in. Why,
here it is now, as I am a living man, coming round the curve."
Robert glanced back and saw a great heavy waggon drawn by two strong
horses lumbering slowly along the road which led to the New Hall. From
the efforts of the animals and its slow pace the contents seemed to be
of great weight.
"Just you wait here," old McIntyre cried, plucking at his son's sleeve
with his thin bony hand. "Wait here and see it pass. Then we will
watch what becomes of it."
They stood by the side of the road until it came abreast of them. The
waggon was covered with tarpaulin sheetings in front and at the sides,
but behind some glimpse could be caught of the contents.
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