“You’ve been reading a dime novel!” cried Delroy, when he had got his breath. “Deadwood Dick—I didn’t think it of you, Graham!”
“I don’t read nothin’, sir, but th’ Noo York Record”
“It’s the same thing,” Delroy interjected.
“But I don’t believe in takin’ no risks—when you come after th’ necklace, sir, it’s a-goin’ t’ be right here.”
“I haven’t a doubt of it,” his employer assured him. “It would be a mighty desperate thief who’d tackle you. You’re all right, Graham. But I’d go into the boathouse if it rains.”
“I’ll see about it, sir,” said Graham, and refilled his pipe.
As they passed through the boathouse again, they perceived young “Willum” busily engaged in making up his bed on a cot in one corner. Delroy nodded to him and passed on without speaking.
“It’s too nice a night to spend in the house,” said Drysdale, a little abruptly, as they mounted the steps to the door. “I believe I’ll go for a tramp. I’ll take my raincoat, though; then I needn’t hurry back.”
“I didn’t know you were such a lover of nature, Jack,” observed Delroy.
“I’m not; but I feel like tramping tonight.”
Delroy shrugged his shoulders, as Drysdale entered the outer hall with them and took down his raincoat from the rack. Thomas, who was stationed in the vestibule, helped him on with it.
“Good-bye,” he called from the door; “don’t look for me for an hour or two.”
“All right, we won’t worry,” answered Delroy;
