"Interest at four per cent, on about twenty-five thousand dollars. That is quite a lucky windfall, Richard; but, my boy, don't you realize what a terribly significant fact it would appear in the eyes of any one bent upon investigating the mysterious disappearance of these valuable documents?" and he laid a trembling hand on Dick's shoulder as he spoke.
"Yes, sir; I thought of that," replied the boy, cheerfully.
"So that I sincerely trust you are in a position to show us some evidence that bears you out in your remarkable assertion. Fortunes do sometimes come to people, but seldom under such conditions as surround you at present."
"That was just what I was telling mother, Mr. Gibbs."
"Yes, and what did she say?"
"She declared that my month in the bank was making me a shrewd business man, just because I suggested that she let me take the letter from the Boston lawyer, and bring it down here to show you when I told of our good luck, sir!"
"A letter—you have a letter from a lawyer then, and with you?" exclaimed the president, his face lighting up suddenly.
Dick put his hand in his pocket and drew the letter out.
"Here it is, sir; just as it was received yesterday by my mother."
Mr. Gibbs immediately glued his face to the pages, type written, and filled with legal phrases, but perfectly intelligible to his trained mind.