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Half-past seven it was, then, for all that the hour again struck me as being rather advanced for a cloudy morning in mid-November. And evidently Grenelli thought so too. He could hardly suppress the exclamation that rose to his lips as he glanced at the dial. Ten minutes passed, and then Grenelli spoke.
It makes no particular difference, for we are going to sit quietly here at the table with that curious box between us until something happens. Either Mr. Grenelli is going to give me that information or he isn't. But in the latter case it will be of no further use to either of us. Do I make myself quite clear?"
I distrust, on principle, people with thin, bloodless lips and obliquely set eyes. Yet the fellow spoke pleasantly enough, and he readily undertook to clear young Day's name and reputation with his former employers. The boy handed over the parcel to Grenelli, and then, as he turned to go, begged the honor of shaking hands with Indiman and myself, a permission graciously granted.
He handed the officer the package containing the alarm-clock. "That I have," answered the gratified Brownson. "Keep close eye on Grenelli, Officer Smith, and I may be able to overlook your shortcomings of this morning. I say, Mr. Indiman, but there's a regular miracle in this 'ere business. Now, how do you suppose this blessed little twopenny box ever come through an earthquake like that there."
What did you do with it?" "It's at the stable where Grenelli lived," explained Officer Smith. "I locked it up in a bureau drawer, and here's the key." Brownson looked at his subordinate patronizingly. "You have much to learn, young man " he began. "Much to learn. Hallo! Something's blown up down the block." Well, to sum up briefly, there was no stable left.
Grenelli looked at it, wide-eyed, then he rolled off his chair in some sort of a fit, and Indiman and I were left to stare each other out of countenance. "Plain enough, I think," said Indiman. "There WAS another box containing the infernal machine, but Grenelli made up the dummy so successfully as to deceive even himself.
An agent of the 'Forty'? Well, perhaps so, but I can't help thinking that there was always a bigger man behind him. The same conclusion would apply to the case of that poor wretch Grenelli in the affair of the Russia and the box of dynamite. Some one with brains pulled the strings to make all these marionettes dance. "Finally, there was your own adventure with the amiable Dr. Gonzales.
Of course, it was me who was the real responsible party in the business, and Grenelli, who naturally wanted to get back on his time, felt pretty grouchy about it. Finally, I got mad, told him to go to blazes, and cleared out of the house. "Well, about an hour after that I went home, and met Grenelli coming out; he said that he was going down to the company stable.
I stood looking at it in an absent-minded, miserable sort of stupor; then I heard Indiman calling me. "I'm out of cigars," he explained. "There's a box in the buffet; and just put out the lamp, will you." Grenelli looked haggard in the gray light that streamed into the room as I drew the curtains. He started, too, when he saw that the day had come it was quite perceptible.
"You see, mister, I've been living in New York for three months, now, and I've cut most of my eye-teeth. No offence, of course." "Certainly not." "You look straight goods, and I b'lieve I'd run almost any risk to catch that train well, by jinks! here comes Grenelli now; that makes it all O.K." I did not like the looks of the man who presently joined us in response to Ben Day's hail.
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