“Stole it?” exclaimed the lawyer and Mr. Dare together.
“This is all I know about it,” added Mr. Elder. “And you are entitled to know it, too, as a director of the fair.”
He handed the perplexed and angry lawyer Bud’s note. Attorney Stockwell read it, Mr. Dare looking over his shoulder. When he had finished, the lawyer, white with sudden anger, folded the bit of paper and put it into his vest pocket.
“You’ll notice, Stockwell, that that note is addressed to me.”
“I’ll just keep it as evidence. It may come in handy.”
Mr. Elder slowly put his lantern on the ground and then stepped close to the lawyer’s side. Holding out his hand he said, in a tone that made Jim, the watchman, also step forward:
“Hand me that note.”
The lawyer stepped back. Then he weakened. Drawing the scrap of paper from his pocket, he handed it to his fellow director.
“Are you backin’ him up in this?”
“Stockwell,” answered Mr. Elder, “in the last two or three days, I’ve seen a good deal of your adopted son, and to-night, I’ve seen a good deal of you. I don’t know any more about what Bud has done or is going to do than this note tells. But I do know this. From this time on, when it comes to ‘backin’ him up, I think I’ll back him in any fight he makes against you.”