"See here, Mackintosh," he said solemnly. "I hand you over these parcels, and you're to put them in the innermost corner of your strong room. You needn't open them. Just put them away as they are, and write me a receipt for them. Write it now."
Mr. Mackintosh obediently took pen in hand.
"Just the three leather parcels handed to you by Dickson McCunn, Esq., naming the date."
Mr. Mackintosh wrote. He signed his name with his usual flourish and handed the slip to his client.
"Now," said Dickson, "you'll put that receipt in the strong box where you keep my securities, and you'll give it up to nobody but me in person, and you'll surrender the parcels only on presentation of the receipt. D'you understand?"
"You'd better not if you don't want to hear lees."
"What's in the packages?" Mr. Mackintosh weighed them in his hand.
"That's asking," said Dickson. "But I'll tell ye this much. It's jools."
"I was hearing they were worth more than a million pounds."
"God bless my soul," said the startled manager. "I don't like this kind of business, McCunn."
"No more do I. But you'll do it to oblige an old friend and a good customer. If you don't know much about the packages you know all about me. Now, mind, I trust you."
Mr. Mackintosh forced himself to a joke. "Did you maybe steal them?"
Dickson grinned. "Just what I did. And that being so, I want you to let me out by the back door."
When he found himself in the street he felt the huge relief of a boy who had emerged with credit from the dentist's chair. Remembering that there would be no midday dinner for him at home, his first step was to feed heavily at a restaurant. He had, so far as he could see, surmounted all his troubles, his one regret being that he had lost his pack, which contained among other things his _Izaak Walton_ and his safety razor. He bought another razor and a new Walton, and mounted an electric tram-car _en route_ for home.
Very contented with himself he felt as the car swung across the Clyde bridge. He had done well--but of that he did not want to think, for the whole beastly thing was over. He was going to bury that memory, to be resurrected perhaps on a later day when the unpleasantness had been forgotten. Heritage had his address, and knew where to come when it was time to claim the jewels. As for the watchers, they must have ceased to suspect him, when they discovered the innocent contents of his knapsack and Mrs. Morran's box. Home for him, and a luxurious tea by his own fireside; and then an evening with his books, for Heritage's nonsense had stimulated his literary fervour. He would dip into his old favourites again to confirm his faith. To-morrow he would go for a jaunt somewhere--perhaps down the Clyde, or to the South of England, which he had heard was a pleasant, thickly peopled country. No more lonely inns and deserted villages for him; henceforth he would make certain of comfort and peace.