“I beg your pardon, but for the present you may consider it my property. There may be further risk, you know, for you. It will be quite safe, I assure you, in my keeping.”
“Well, I'll be hanged,” exclaimed the dismayed Smithers.
“Shouldn't wonder in the least—some day," replied Garret imperturbably.
“But it's mine,”
“Beg to differ with you. It never was yours. It is mine now, at least for a time. I haven't decided yet what to do with it—whether to tear it up, or restore it to its rightful owner.”
He intended to do neither one nor the other. He had formed his plan, but he had not the slightest intention of taking either Stockley or Smithers into his confidence. The latter was very angry at the loss of the letter, but he knew very well that he could not get it back until Garrett pleased to return it. His ill humor was not lessened when Garrett said as he walked away:
“By the way, I should recommend you to say nothing about this so-called 'find' of yours, you fellows, for I am strongly under the impression that it is bogus, and besides, it might be difficult to convince people you came by it honestly.”
Smithers' eyelids exhibited that nervous twitching more rapidly than ever.