“Yes,” agreed Drysdale, “the Grahams are all right.” Delroy touched the bell.
“Send someone after Graham and his boy, Thomas,” he said. “Bring them here at once.”
“You’re quite certain of them?” asked Tremaine. “It’s rather a big temptation to put in any man’s way.”
Delroy laughed.
“Certain! I should say so. He was an old servant of my father’s, and would as soon think of robbing himself as robbing us. His son’s a chip of the old block. But here they are,” he added, as the door opened and two men came in.
A single glance was enough to convince anyone of their absolute probity. The elder man was perhaps sixty years of age, in the very prime of health and strength, with a weather-beaten countenance surrounded by a grizzled beard; the younger one was about twenty-five. Both showed the clean skin and clear eyes and firm muscles resulting from life in the open air, for they had the care of the acres of lawn and garden and woodland and meadow belonging to the estate.
“We was jest passin’, sir,” began Graham, “when Tummas called us an’ said as how you wanted t’ see us.”
“Yes,” said Delroy, and held up the little cage. “Do you know what this is for?” Graham looked at it stolidly. “No, sir; I don’t,” he said.
“Well, I’ll show you. This string of white stones
