Nothing could have been more reassuring than the brilliantly-lighted dining-room, the good-natured, good-humoured face of its master, and the harmlessly seductive appearance of the chair. Farleg was ashamed of his fears; upon another invitation, and an assurance that nothing farther would be said by his host until he had returned to his former position, he threw himself once more into the comfortable seat. "And now, Joe, that we are in a position to go on smoothly, what can I do for you?" "You remember, sir, the night of the robbery, sir?" "Yes; you broke into my house, into one of the tower-rooms, on the evening of the 17th of this month, and you carried off a few things of no great value." "And you're not going to send the police after me?" "No." Farleg leaned forward in his chair until his elbows rested on his knees. "You missed the things. You said a while ago you expected me, or whoever did the robbery; was that a true word? Did you expect whoever did the robbery to come and see you?" "I did. I could not be sure you would come, but when I missed the things I thought you might call. There was, of course, the chance you might not." "That's it. Well, I have come, you see. I found some rings, and I kept three; but I thought you might like to have this one, and I brought it to you, as I am about to leave the country. Look at it. It's a plain gold guard." As Farleg said these words his eyes, no longer wandering, fixed themselves on the face of Mr. Grey. For an instant the face of the banker puckered and wrinkled up like a blighted leaf. Almost instantly it smoothed out again; and, with a bland smile, he said: "Thank you very much. It was my poor wife's guard ring. You were very kind to think of bringing it back to me." As he spoke he began softly opening the drawer of the little table that stood between him and the burglar. CHAPTER II. A GENEROUS BANKER. The ring lay on the little table. Mr. Grey did not take it up, but left it where Farleg had placed it. When the banker had pulled out the drawer half-a-dozen inches, he looked up from the ring, and, with a glance of kindly interest, said: "So you intend leaving the country. Why? And where do you purpose going?" Farleg looked down at his boots, and thrust up his shoulders as he answered: "Well, sir, things are getting hot, and the place is getting hot. It isn't every one has so much consideration as you for a man who has to live as best he can----" "Poor fellow!" "And if I and the old woman don't clear out of this soon, why, they'll be sending me away, 'Carriage paid: with care.'" He paused, raised his head, and turned those prominent blue eyes on the face of the banker. The latter was drawing small circles on the table in front of him with the white forefinger of his left hand, his eyes intently followed his finger, his white right hand rested on the edge of the partly open drawer.