Eh, has the old man put his finger on it?"
"But if that were true, father, the gold must go back again."
"So it does, Robert, but a little at a time. Ha, ha! I've had my eyes
open, you see. Every night it goes down in a small cart, and is sent on
to London by the 7.40. Not in bars this time, but done up in iron-bound
chests. I've seen them, boy, and I've had this hand upon them."
"Well," said the young man thoughtfully, "maybe you are right. It is
possible that you are right."
While father and son were prying into his secrets, Raffles Haw had found
his way to Elmdene, where Laura sat reading the _Queen_ by the fire.
"I am so sorry," she said, throwing down her paper and springing to her
feet. "They are all out except me. But I am sure that they won't be
long. I expect Robert every moment."
"I would rather speak with you alone," answered Raffles Haw quietly."
Pray sit down, for I wanted to have a little chat with you."
Laura resumed her seat with a flush upon her cheeks and a quickening of
the breath. She turned her face away and gazed into the fire; but there
was a sparkle in her eyes which was not caught from the leaping flames.
"Do you remember the first time that we met, Miss McIntyre?" he asked,
standing on the rug and looking down at her dark hair, and the
beautifully feminine curve of her ivory neck.
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