A Triple Alliance

Larry refused to share my quarters and chose a room
for himself, which Bates fitted, up out of the house
stores. I did not know what Bates might surmise about
Larry, but he accepted my friend in good part, as a
guest who would remain indefinitely. He seemed to interest
Larry, whose eyes followed the man inquiringly.
When we went into Bates' room on our tour of the
house, Larry scanned the books on a little shelf with
something more than a casual eye. There were exactly
four volumes,-Shakespeare's Comedies, The Faerie
Queen, Sterne's Sentimental Journey and Yeats' Land
of Heart's Desire.

"A queer customer, Larry. Nobody but my grandfather
could ever have discovered him-he found him
up in Vermont."

"I suppose his being a bloomin' Yankee naturally accounts
for this," remarked Larry, taking from under the
pillow of the narrow iron bed a copy of the Dublin
Freeman's Journal.

"It is a little odd," I said. "But if you found a Yiddish
newspaper or an Egyptian papyrus under his pillow
I should not be surprised."

"Nor I," said Larry. "I'll wager that not another
shelf in this part of the world contains exactly that collection
of books, and nothing else. You will notice that
there was once a book-plate in each of these volumes and
that it's been scratched out with care."

On a small table were pen and ink and a curious
much-worn portfolio.

"He always gets the mail first, doesn't he?" asked
Larry.

"Yes, I believe he does."

"I thought so; and I'll swear he never got a letter
from Vermont in his life."