From the efforts of the animals and its slow pace the contents seemed to be of great weight.
"Just you wait here," old McIntyre cried, plucking at his son's sleeve with his thin bony hand. "Wait here and see it pass. Then we will watch what becomes of it."
They stood by the side of the road until it came abreast of them. The waggon was covered with tarpaulin sheetings in front and at the sides, but behind some glimpse could be caught of the contents. They consisted, as far as Robert could see, of a number of packets of the same shape, each about two feet long and six inches high, arranged symmetrically upon the top of each other. Each packet was surrounded by a covering of coarse sacking.
"What do you think of that?" asked old McIntyre triumphantly as the load creaked past.
"Why, father? What do you make of it?"
"I have watched it, Robert--I have watched it every Saturday, and I had my chance of looking a little deeper into it. You remember the day when the elm blew down, and the road was blocked until they could saw it in two. That was on a Saturday, and the waggon came to a stand until they could clear a way for it. I was there, Robert, and I saw my chance. I strolled behind the waggon, and I placed my hands upon one of those packets. They look small, do they not? It would take a strong man to lift one. They are heavy, Robert, heavy, and hard with the hardness of metal. I tell you, boy, that that waggon is loaded with gold."
"Gold!"
"With solid bars of gold, Robert. But come into the plantation and we shall see what becomes of it."
They passed through the lodge gates, behind the waggon, and then wandered off among the fir-trees until they gained a spot where they could command a view. The load had halted, not in front of the house, but at the door of the out-building with the chimney. A staff of stablemen and footmen were in readiness, who proceeded to swiftly unload and to carry the packages through the door. It was the first time that Robert had ever seen any one save the master of the house enter the laboratory. No sign was seen of him now, however, and in half an hour the contents had all been safely stored and the waggon had driven briskly away.
"I cannot understand it, father," said Robert thoughtfully, as they resumed their walk. "Supposing that your supposition is correct, who would send him such quantities of gold, and where could it come from?"
"Ha, you have to come to the old man after all!" chuckled his companion. "I can see the little game. It is clear enough to me. There are two of them in it, you understand. The other one gets the gold. Never mind how, but we will hope that there is no harm. Let us suppose, for example, that they have found a marvellous mine, where you can just shovel it out like clay from a pit. Well, then, he sends it on to this one, and he has his furnaces and his chemicals, and he refines and purifies it and makes it fit to sell. That's my explanation of it, Robert. Eh, has the old man put his finger on it?"
"But if that were true, father, the gold must go back again."
"So it does, Robert, but a little at a time. Ha, ha! I've had my eyes open, you see. Every night it goes down in a small cart, and is sent on to London by the 7.40. Not in bars this time, but done up in iron-bound chests. I've seen them, boy, and I've had this hand upon them."
"Well," said the young man thoughtfully, "maybe you are right. It is possible that you are right."
While father and son were prying into his secrets, Raffles Haw had found his way to Elmdene, where Laura sat reading the _Queen_ by the fire.
"I am so sorry," she said, throwing down her paper and springing to her feet. "They are all out except me. But I am sure that they won't be long. I expect Robert every moment."
"I would rather speak with you alone," answered Raffles Haw quietly." Pray sit down, for I wanted to have a little chat with you."
Laura resumed her seat with a flush upon her cheeks and a quickening of the breath.