“Came in response to our advertisement for agents, I suppose?” he inquired.
“Not at all,” replied Frank. “It is solely on personal business. I came to see you, sir—about your old business at Riverton.”
Mr. Morton shrugged his shoulders impatiently, as though the reminder was unpleasant.
“Bills?” he growled out. “Thought I’d settled everything—sick of the whole business, and threw it up in the air for good. Go on.”
“Why,” said Frank, “I sort of represent the people who bought the salvage from the fire insurance folks.”
“I have nothing to do with that.”
“Among the debris there was a zinc box with some of your papers in it.”
“Yes, I remember,” nodded Mr. Morton. “Nearly all burned up, weren’t they?”
“No, sir. In looking them over I found some of your old customers’ accounts, and that like. I thought they might be valuable to you, so I came down from Greenville where I live to bring them to you.”