"It's just seven years
since I entered into mine inheritance and you became my
counselor."
"Well, seven, then. But will you put those jewels in safe
deposit?"
"Oh, I suppose so."
"But when?"
"Would it suit you if I ran out to-night?" Maitland demanded so
abruptly that Bannerman was disconcerted.
"I--er--ask nothing better."
"I'll bring them in town to-morrow. You arrange about the vault
and advise me, will you, like a good fellow?"
"Bless my soul! I never dreamed that you would be so--so--"
"Amenable to discipline?" Maitland grinned, boylike, and, leaning
back, appreciated Bannerman's startled expression with keen
enjoyment. "Well, consider that for once you've scared me. I'm
off--just time to catch the ten-twenty for Greenfields. Waiter!"
He scrawled his initials at the bottom of the bill presented him,
and rose. "Sorry, Bannerman," he said, chuckling, "to cut short a
pleasant evening. But you shouldn't startle me so, you know.
Pardon me if I run; I _might_ miss that train."
"But there was something else--"
"It can wait."
"Take a later train, then."
"What! With this grave peril hanging over me? _Im_possible!
'Night."
Bannerman, discomfited, saw Maitland's shoulders disappear through
the dining-room doorway, meditated pursuit, thought better of it,
and reseated himself, frowning.
"Mad Maitland, indeed!" he commented.
As for the gentleman so characterized, he emerged, a moment later,
from the portals of the club, still chuckling mildly to himself as
he struggled into a light evening overcoat.
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