“But what are those papers?”
On one was written “Arsenic-Poison;” on the other, “Receipt for Toothache.”
“Nothing of any value,” said I, “by the outside.”
I opened them, and found, to my surprise, bank-notes to the exact amount of two hundred pounds.
“Well, I declare,” said I, smiling, “I had nearly thrown all this money away.”
“And now you see what induced the old woman to write those labels on the outside of it: in case she should be robbed, that the robbers might have thrown the papers away—as you nearly did, and as very probably they might have done.”
“Well, Mr Wilson, I have no further search to make. Will you oblige me by taking care of this money for me?”
“Yes; that is, if you’ll carry the gold, which is rather heavy, up to my house, and then I will give you a receipt for the whole.”
Anderson then left us, and I followed Mr Wilson home. As soon as the money was all re-counted, and a note made of it, Mr Wilson asked me what I wished that he should do with it. I replied, what was the truth, that I really did not know what to do with it, but still I should like to lay it out in something tangible.
“You want to buy a farm, I suppose, and be a landed proprietor, like Bramble; but I’m afraid there is not enough. But I tell you what, Tom: we lawyers know many things which do not come to everybody’s ears, and I know that the proprietor of the house in which your mother lives wishes to sell it; and I think, as he is much pinched for money, that this sum will about buy it. Now your mother pays fifty-five guineas a year for it, and if it sells for six hundred pounds, that will give you more than nine per cent for your money. What do you think?”