“I’ll take your word, and later—”
“You have told-me several times that the truth isn’t in me. Count that money! I insist!” A bit nasty of me, I admit, but I had resolved to make my bigness, where Judge Kingsley was concerned. I saw no chance of winning unless I made him understand that I was not to be kicked around any more.
I stood over him while he counted. His bony fingers shook. Even though he was handling money—rather a favorite indoor sport of his—I knew he was finding the job a bitter one, with me at his elbow and acting just as if I belonged there. He jotted down amounts as he counted, and then he added the figures.
“I make it three thousand three hundred and fifty four dollars and twenty-nine cents,” he reported.
“You are right, sir.” I held my little account-book in front of his nose and tapped my totals. “I did a bit better than I figured.”
“The two thousand which belongs to me—”
“There are no divisions in that pile, sir. We are not going to have any such argument as we had once before about price and land and deed. You need that money for immediate use and you’re going to take it. And don’t tell me again that you don’t need my help. You do!” Big talk, but he needed it! “But don’t you be afraid that I shall ever twit you about this help. Now is there any way of staving off this widow who wants her three thousand?”
“No! I have promised her. After what you told me—I reckoned on—”
“Ah! Then you have been admitting to yourself the last few days that I’m not so much of a renegade and crook, after all!”
His eyes shifted. “You must make allowances in my case, Mr. Sidney!” That looked promising. He was giving me a handle for my name.