Larry refused to share my quarters and chose a room
for himself, which Bates fitted, up out of the house
stores. I did not know what Bates might surmise about
Larry, but he accepted my friend in good part, as a
guest who would remain indefinitely. He seemed to interest
Larry, whose eyes followed the man inquiringly.
When we went into Bates' room on our tour of the
house, Larry scanned the books on a little shelf with
something more than a casual eye. There were exactly
four volumes,-Shakespeare's Comedies, The Faerie
Queen, Sterne's Sentimental Journey and Yeats' Land
of Heart's Desire.
"A queer customer, Larry. Nobody but my grandfather
could ever have discovered him-he found him
up in Vermont."
"I suppose his being a bloomin' Yankee naturally accounts
for this," remarked Larry, taking from under the
pillow of the narrow iron bed a copy of the Dublin
Freeman's Journal.
"It is a little odd," I said. "But if you found a Yiddish
newspaper or an Egyptian papyrus under his pillow
I should not be surprised."
"Nor I," said Larry. "I'll wager that not another
shelf in this part of the world contains exactly that collection
of books, and nothing else. You will notice that
there was once a book-plate in each of these volumes and
that it's been scratched out with care."
On a small table were pen and ink and a curious
much-worn portfolio.
"He always gets the mail first, doesn't he?" asked
Larry.
"Yes, I believe he does."
"I thought so; and I'll swear he never got a letter
from Vermont in his life."
When we went down Bates was limping about the
library, endeavoring to restore order.
"Bates," I said to him, "you are a very curious person.
I have had a thousand and one opinions about you
since I came here, and I still don't make you out."
He turned from the shelves, a defaced volume in his
hands.
"Yes, sir. It was a good deal that way with your lamented
grandfather. He always said I puzzled him."
Larry, safe behind the fellow's back, made no attempt
to conceal a smile.
"I want to thank you for your heroic efforts to protect
the house last night. You acted nobly, and I must
confess, Bates, that I didn't think it was in you. You've
got the right stuff in you; I'm only sorry that there are
black pages in your record that I can't reconcile with
your manly conduct of last night. But we've got to
come to an understanding."
"Yes, sir."
"The most outrageous attacks have been made on me
since I came here. You know what I mean well enough.
Mr. Glenarm never intended that I should sit down in
his house and be killed or robbed. He was the gentlest
being that ever lived, and I'm going to fight for his
memory and to protect his property from the scoundrels
who have plotted against me. I hope you follow me."