“Yes,” agreed Nixon, slowly, “it looks pretty strong,” but he was plainly waiting for something that was still to come.
“By the way,” continued Mr. Schofield, opening a drawer of his desk. “After you left the other day, I found this package on the floor,” and he took from the drawer a little packet, carefully wrapped and sealed, and laid it on his desk. “It doesn’t belong to anyone around here, and I thought maybe you’d dropped it.”
“Let’s see it,” said Nixon, and took it with eager fingers. He ripped open the seal and drew out a little bundle of paper currency. He ran through it rapidly and found it to consist of ten one hundred dollar bills. “Yes,” he said, slipping them into an inside pocket. “It’s mine. I’d been wondering what had become of it.”
“And you’re convinced?”
“Perfectly, I’ll report against Bassett.”
“When?”
Nixon glanced at his watch and started to his feet.
“Right away,” he said. “The meeting’s called for ten-thirty. I’ll just have time to get there.”
He picked up hat and overcoat and started for the door. Mr. Schofield, his finger hovering over an electric button, watched him with a perplexed pucker of the forehead. Then his face cleared, and he took his hand away from the button.
“Well, good-bye,” he said. “I’m glad we could settle it so easily.”