"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