VII—The Gathering of the Storm.It was only a purely mechanical attention that I was able to give to my work that day at the bank. All my thoughts were of Larose, and at first, so full of consternation was I at the contents of young Ferguson's letter that with every opening of the swing doors I expected someone to enter who would immediately announce that he was a detective from the city, and was wanting a private word with me.
But then I remembered that was not Larose's way. It was proverbial that the great detective never hurried, that he never appeared upon the scene, and that he invariably showed no cards at all until he was quite sure, and then—but I smiled grimly to myself here, and was positive it would take him a very long while to be quite sure of anything about me.
In the light
