I cabled you this morning to prepare for good news, so don’t get heart failure when you receive this letter. We’ve struck it rich, as I always told you we should. I sold the worse half of our holdings in Arizona for four million dollars last week, and Lord knows what we’ll get for the rest. I’ve cabled you a hundred thousand pounds, to be going on with, to the Bank of England.
Sorry you’ve had such a rough time, old chap, but you’re on velvet for the rest of your life. Have a bottle with your best pal when you get this, and drink my health.
Cheerio!
Sam.
P. S. I should say, roughly speaking, that your share of the rest of the land will work out at something like five million dollars. I hope you’ll chuck your humdrum life now and come out into the world of adventure.
“It’s a fairy tale!” Mr. Groome gasped.
“Let me see the letter,” the accountant implored.
Mr. Bultiwell only breathed hard.
“The other communication,” Jacob continued, unfolding a stiff sheet of paper, “is from the Bank of England, and it is what you might call short and sweet:”
Dear Sir,
We beg to inform you that we have to-day received a credit on your behalf, from our New York branch, amounting to one hundred thousand pounds sterling, which sum we hold at your disposal.