"Now what's the trouble?" he demanded with a trace of asperity.
"Can't you forget that Graeme business and--"
"Oh, it's not that." Bannerman dismissed the troubles of Mr.
Graeme with an airy wave of a pudgy hand. "That's not my funeral,
nor yours.... Only I've been worried, of late, by your utterly
careless habits."
Maitland looked his consternation. "In heaven's name, what now?"
And grinned as he joined hands before him in simulated petition.
"Please don't read me a lecture just now, dear boy. If you've got
something dreadful on your chest wait till another day, when I'm
more in the humor to be found fault with."
"No lecture." Bannerman laughed nervously. "I've merely been
wondering what you have done with the Maitland heirlooms."
"What? Oh, those things? They're safe enough--_in_ the safe
out at Greenfields."
"To be sure! Quite so!" agreed the lawyer, with ironic heartiness.
"Oh, quite." And proceeded to take all Madison Square into his
confidence, addressing it from the window. "Here's a young man,
sole proprietor of a priceless collection of family heirlooms,--
diamonds, rubies, sapphires galore; and he thinks they're safe
enough _in_ a safe at his country residence, fifty miles from
anywhere! What a simple, trustful soul it is!"
"Why should I bother?" argued Maitland sulkily. "It's a good,
strong safe, and--and there are plenty of servants around," he
concluded largely.
"Precisely. Likewise plenty of burglars.
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