“No matter, you will soon believe it.”
“But where, in the name of all that’s wonderful, can all these riches have come from?” said Mrs. Bristow, passing her hand across her aching forehead.
“Will you leave the matter in my hands?”
“Of course I will.”
“Very well then, so be it. There is a mystery about this affair which neither of us for the present can fathom—that we may take for granted; but the property belongs to you, and for the present I will take charge of it.”
“Ah! do so. You are much more quick-witted and clever than I am, and I need hardly say I would trust you with my life.”
Bessie Dalton folded up the notes, flew upstairs again to her own room, and returned with a pocket-book.
In this she carefully placed the notes, and then thrust the pocket-book in her bosom.
“So,” she ejaculated, “they are safe for the present—safe until we can learn something more about them and their real value. Now, are you ready to leave?”
“Yes; but—ahem—I—”