into this man's house—not knowing who he was, of course—to steal his wife's jewels. He had surprised us, like I told you, and to save Léontine I would have shot him dead only that his resemblance to me told me who he was. In spite of this, here was the man that I'd gone to rob going my bond, getting me out of a life sentence perhaps, and then, insisting on my living at his house until I got a fresh start on the level!
But I balked dead.
"That don't go, John," said I. "My nerve never failed me yet, but it ain't up to meeting your wife."
"Then get it up," says he, with his good-natured smile. "Edith is the one who's doing the whole thing."
"What's that?" I cried.
"Yes, old chap. She's the one you've got to thank. You see, Frank, Edith has all the money. Our father died bankrupt, otherwise you would not have been a burglar. I could never make a dollar to save my life, though I hope to pretty soon; and that's something I want to talk to you about."
But I shook my head. You see, I had thought all the time that John was a rich man in his own right; that he might have saved something from the wreck when the old man went broke and blew his brains out; then made good investments and pulled out well off. Looking at it that way, it was all right if he wanted to pay up a score for the father of us both. But to be an object of charity to a woman who owed me nothing but the good chance of losing her jewels—that wouldn't do.
