Were they at all alike, or was either like anybody you have seen
before?"
Leamy puckered his forehead and thought.
"Faith," he said presently, "they were a bit alike, though one had a beard
an' the udther whiskers only."
"Neither happened to look like Mr. Hollams, for instance?"
Leamy started. "Begob, but they did! They'd ha' been mortal like him if
they'd been shaved." Then, after a pause, he suddenly added: "Holy saints!
is ut the fam'ly he talked av?"
Hewitt laughed. "Perhaps it is," he said. "Now, as to the man who sent you
with the bag. Was it an old bag?"
"Bran' cracklin' new--a brown leather bag."
"Locked?"
"That I niver thried, sor. It was not my consarn."
"True. Now, as to this Mr. W. himself." Hewitt had been rummaging for some
few minutes in a portfolio, and finally produced a photograph, and held it
before the Irishman's eye. "Is that like him?" he asked.
"Shure it's the man himself! Is he a friend av yours, sor?"
"No, he's not exactly a friend of mine," Hewitt answered, with a grim
chuckle. "I fancy he's one of that very respectable _family_ you heard
about at Mr.
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