Black Milsom gave a start as Dennis uttered the words "stack of
chimneys."
"Oh!" he said, in an altered tone; "so they left the chimney-stack, did
they?"
Mr. Wayman perceived that change of tone.
"I begin to understand," he said; "you hid that money in one of the
chimneys."
"Never you mind where I hid it. There's little chance of its being
found there, after bricklayers pulling the place to pieces. I must get
into that house, come what may."
"You'll find that difficult," answered Wayman.
"Perhaps. But I'll do it, or my name's not Black Milsom."
* * * * *
Captain Joseph Duncombe, or Joe Duncombe, as he generally called
himself, was a burly, rosy-faced man of fifty years of age; a hearty,
honest fellow. He was a widower, with only one child, a daughter, whom
he idolized.
Any father might have been forgiven for being devotedly fond of such a
daughter as Rosamond Duncombe.
Rosamond was one of those light-hearted, womanly creatures who seem
born to make home a paradise. She had a sweet temper; a laugh which was
like music; a manner which was fascination itself.
When it is also taken into consideration that she had a pretty little
nose, lips that were fresh and rosy as ripe red cherries, cheeks that
were like dewy roses, newly-gathered, and large, liquid eyes, of the
deepest, clearest blue, it must be confessed that Rosamond Duncombe was
a very charming girl.
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