“Mr. Pickering,” said Larry, straightening up and taking the pipe from his mouth, “I’m Mr. Glenarm’s counsel. sheriff to retire for a moment I should like to say a few words to you that you might prefer to keep between If you will do me the kindness to ask the ourselves.”

I had usually found it wise to take any cue Larry threw me, and I said:

“Pickering this is Mr. Donovan, who has every authority to act for me in the matter.”

Pickering looked impatiently from one to the other of us.

“You seem to have the guns, the ammunition and the numbers on your side,” he observed dryly.

“The sheriff may wait within call,” said Larry, and at a word from Pickering the man left the room.

“Now, Mr. Pickering,”—Larry spoke slowly,—“as my friend has explained the case to me, the assets of his grandfather’s estate are all accounted for, the land hereabouts, this house, the ten thousand dollars in securities and a somewhat vague claim against a lady known as Sister Theresa, who conducts St. Agatha’s School. Is that correct ?”

“I don’t ask you to take my word for it, sir,” rejoined Pickering hotly. “I have filed an inventory of the estate, so far as found, with the proper authorities.”

“Certainly. But I merely wish to be sure of my facts for the purpose of this interview, to save me the trouble of going to the records. And, moreover, I am somewhat unfamiliar with your procedure in this country. I am a member, sir, of the Irish Bar. Pardon me, but I repeat my question.”

“I have made oath—that, I trust, is sufficient even for a member of the Irish Bar. ”

“Quite so, Mr. Pickering,” said Larry, nodding his head gravely.

He was not, to be sure, a presentable member of any bar, for a smudge detracted considerably from the appearance of one side of his face, his clothes were rumpled and covered with black dust, and his hands were black. But I had rarely seen him so calm. He recrossed his legs, peered into the bowl of his pipe for a moment,. then asked, as quietly as though he were soliciting an opinion of the weather:

“Will you tell me, Mr. Pickering whether you your, self are a debtor of John Marshall Glenarm’s estate ?”

Pickering’s face grew white and his eyes stared, and when he tried suddenly to speak his jaw twitched. The room was so still that the breaking of a blazing log on the andirons was a pleasant relief. We stood, the three of us, with our eyes on Pickering, and in my own case I must say that my heart was pounding my ribs at an uncomfortable speed, for I knew Larry was not sparring for time.

The blood rushed into Pickering’s face and he turned toward Larry stormily.