It was evident that Mr.—er—Peters had not lost his powers of observation.
"Why have you left Vermont, Mr. Kipling?" I asked.
"Peters!" he remonstrated, in a beseeching whisper.
"Excuse me, Mr. Peters," said I. "Why have you left Vermont, Mr. Peters?"
"That is a delicate question, madam," he replied. "Are you not aware that my house is still in the market?"
"I am instructed," said I, drawing out my check-book, "to get an answer to any question I may choose to ask, at any cost. If you fear to reply because it may prevent a sale of your house, I will buy the house at your own price."
"Forty thousand dollars," said he. "It's worth twenty thousand, but in the hurry of my departure I left fifty thousand dollars' worth of notes stored away in the attic."
I drew and handed him the check.
"Now that your house is sold," said I, "why, Mr. Peters, did you leave Vermont?"