The Burglar and the Blizzard Part 3

Geoffrey stared at him a moment, and then said: "You must be crazy."

"Maybe I am," answered McVay, as if the suggestion were not without an amusing side. "Maybe I am, but that is not the point. Think of a girl, Holland, alone, all night, in such a storm. Now, I put it to you: it is not a position in which you would leave your sister, is it?"

Geoffrey began a sentence and finding it inadequate, contented himself with a laugh.

"There you see," said McVay. "It's out of the question. The place is draughty, too, though there is a stove. Do you remember the house at all? You would be surprised to see how nicely I've fixed it up for her."

"No doubt I should," replied Holland, thinking of the Vaughan and Marheim valuables.

"It is surprisingly livable, but it _is_ draughty," McVay went on. "The truth is I ought to have gone south, as I meant to do last week. But one cannot foresee everything. The winters have been open until Christmas so often lately. However, I made a mistake and I am perfectly willing to rectify it. If you have no objection, I'll go and bring her back here."

"If you have any respect for your skin you won't move from that chair."

"Oh, the devil, Holland, don't be so--" he hesitated for the right word, not wishing to be unjust,--"so obtuse. Listen to that wind! It's cold here. Think what it must be in that shanty."

"Very unpleasant, I should think."

"More than that, more than that,--suffering, I have no doubt. Why, she might freeze to death if anything went wrong with the fire. It is not safe. It's a distinct risk to leave her. Let alone that a storm like this would scare any girl alone in a place like that, there is some danger to her life. Don't you see that?"

"Yes, I see," returned Geoffrey, "but you ought to have thought of that before you came burgling in a blizzard."

"Thought of it! Of course I thought of it. But I had no idea whatever of being caught, with old McFarlane laid up and the two boys away, it did seem about the safest job yet."

There was a pause, for Geoffrey evidently had no intention of even arguing the matter, and presently McVay continued:

"Now you know you would feel badly to-morrow morning if anything went wrong with her, and you knew you could have helped it!"

"Helped it!" said Geoffrey. "What do you mean? Let you loose on the county for the sake of a story no sane man would believe?"

"Well," returned McVay judicially, "perhaps you could not do that, but,"

he added brightly, "you could go yourself."

"Yes," said Geoffrey, "I _could_--"

"Then I think you ought to be getting along."

"Upon my word, McVay," said Holland, "you are something of a humorist, aren't you?"

McVay again looked puzzled, but rose to the occasion.

"Oh, hardly that," he said. "Every now and then I have a way of putting things,--a way of my own. I find often I am able to amuse people, but if you are cheerful yourself, you make other people so. I was just thinking that it must be a great thing for men who have been in prison for years to have some one come in with a new point of view."

"I'm sure you will be an addition to prison life. It's an ill wind, you know."

"It's an ill wind for my sister, literally enough. Come, Holland, you certainly can trust me. Do be starting."

"Why, what do you take me for?" said the exasperated Geoffrey. "Do you really suppose that I am going, looking for a den of your accomplices in order to give you a chance to escape?"

"'Accomplices!'" exclaimed McVay; and for the first time a shade of anger crossed his brow; "'_accomplices'_! I have no accomplices.

Anything I do I think I am able to do alone. Still," he added putting aside his annoyance, "if you feel nervous about leaving me I'd just as lief give you my word of honour to stay here until you come back."

"Your _what_?"

McVay made a slight gesture of his shoulders, as if he were being a good deal tried. "Oh, anything you like," he said. "I suppose you could lock me up in a closet."

"I don't think we need trouble to arrange the details," said Geoffrey drily. "But I'll tell you what I will do. After I get you safely in jail to-morrow, I'll get a trap and go and look up this hut."

"It may be too late then."

"It may," said Geoffrey, and continued to read.

Yet he had no further satisfaction in his book. He knew that the burglar kept casting meditative glances at him as if in wonder at such brutality, and in truth, his own mind was not entirely at ease. If by any chance the story were true,--if there was a woman at his doors freezing to death, how could he sit enjoying the fire? But, on the other hand, could any one have a more evident motive for deception than his informant? What better opportunity for escape could be arranged? It was so evident, so impudent as to be almost convincing. What more likely for instance, than that the hut was a regular rendezvous for criminals and tramps, that by going he would be walking into the veriest trap? Yet again there was the report confirmed by Harris's story that a woman was in some way connected with these robberies. The wind whistled round the house with a suggestion of difficulty, of combat with the elements, of actual danger, perhaps, that suddenly gave Geoffrey a new view of delay.

Had it not something the air of cowardice, or at least of laziness? He found his eyes had read the same page three times, while his brain was busy devising means by which McVay could be secured in his absence--if he went.

At length he rose suddenly to his feet.

"I'll go," he said, "but before I go, I'll tie you up so safely that, if I don't come back, you'll starve to death before you'll be able to get out or make any one hear you. On these terms do you still want me to go?"

"Oh, yes, I want you to go," said McVay, "only for goodness sake be careful. If you should feel any temptation to lie down and go to sleep don't yield to it; they say it's fatal. The great thing is to keep on walking--"

"Oh, shut up," said Geoffrey. In view of the possibility that he was going to meet death at the hands of his fluent companion's accomplices he found this friendly advice unbearable.

"This hut, I take it," he said, "is an old woodcutter's shanty in the north woods?"

"Yes, something over a mile and a half north of here."

"I know the place," said Geoffrey, "now come along, and we'll see how I can fix you up until I come back."

He had in mind a heavy upstairs cedar-closet. It had been designed by a thoughtful architect for the storing of summer wearing apparel, and was strongly built. It had besides the advantage of having a door that opened in and so was difficult to break open from the inside. Here, having removed a complete burglar's outfit from his pockets, Geoffrey disposed McVay, being met with a readiness on McVay's part that seemed to prove either that he was sincere in his belief in Holland's safe return, or else was perfectly confident of being able to open the door as soon as Geoffrey's back was turned.

"But he'll find himself mistaken," Geoffrey murmured as, having locked the door, he turned away. At this instant a faint knocking was audible, and, gathering that McVay had some final instructions to give, Geoffrey again opened the door.

"By the way," said the burglar, and for the first time a certain constraint, amounting almost to embarra.s.sment, was discernible in his manner, "my sister has no idea about--it would be a great shock to her--in fact, you understand, she has not discovered exactly how our money comes to us."

"Do you expect me to believe that?" asked Geoffrey.

"I grant it does not sound likely," returned McVay, "and indeed would not be possible with any other man than myself. But I hit upon a pretty good yarn,--worked out well everyway. I told her--"

"I don't want to hear your infernal lies."

"But it might be convenient for you to know. I told her," McVay chuckled, "that I was employed as night watchman at Drake's paper mill.

That of course kept me out all night, and--"

"She must think night watchmen get good wages."

"That was just it. I told her Drake was an old friend of mine, and just wanted an excuse to give me an allowance until he found me a better job.

You see I just lost a nice job in a bank--"