“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 embarrassment, 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—” “I suppose it would be indiscreet to inquire why?” “Well, we won’t discuss it,” said McVay with an agreeable smile. “Of course she could understand that such an inferior position as a watchman’s had to be kept a profound secret, hence our remote mode of life, and the fact that I don’t allow a butcher or baker to come near us. I tell her that if it were known that I had held such a poor position, it would interfere with my getting a better. So, if you should happen to find that you have to explain to her why I am detained here—” “_If_ I should explain to her,” said Geoffrey. “What do you suppose I am going to do?”