Under the clear, still light, amid the giant
wheels and strange engines, that one little dark figure clutching and
clinging to the ingots had in it something both weird and piteous.
For five minutes or more Robert stood in the darkness amid the rain,
looking in at this strange sight, while his father hardly moved save to
cuddle closer to the gold, and to pat it with his thin hands.
Robert was still uncertain what he should do, when his eyes wandered
from the central figure and fell on something else which made him give a
little cry of astonishment--a cry which was drowned amid the howling of
the gale.
Raffles Haw was standing in the corner of the room. Where he had come
from Robert could not say, but he was certain that he had not been there
when he first looked in. He stood silent, wrapped in some long, dark
dressing-gown, his arms folded, and a bitter smile upon his pale face.
Old McIntyre seemed to see him at almost the same moment, for he snarled
out an oath, and clutched still closer at his treasure, looking
slantwise at the master of the house with furtive, treacherous eyes.
"And it has really come to this!" said Haw at last, taking a step
forward. "You have actually fallen so low, Mr. McIntyre, as to steal
into my house at night like a common burglar.
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