“No, I don’t!” Croyden smiled—“but you be ready for them, Moses, be ready for them. It’s just as well to provide against contingencies.”
“Yass, seh!” as Croyden went out and the front door closed behind him, “but dem ’tingencies is monty dang’ous t’ings to fools wid. I don’ likes hit, dat’s whar I don’.”
Croyden found Miss Carrington just where he had left her—a quick return to the sofa having been synchronous with his appearance in the hall.
“I had a mind not to wait here,” she said; “you were an inordinately long time, Mr. Croyden.”
“I was!” he replied, sitting down beside her. “I was, and I admit it—but it can be explained.”
“I’m listening!” she smiled.
“Before you listen to me, listen to Robert Parmenter, deceased!” said he, and gave her the letter.
“Oh, this is the letter—do you mean that I am to read it?” 206
“If you please!” he answered.
She read it through without a single word of comment—an amazing thing in a woman, who, when her curiosity is aroused, can ask more questions to the minute than can be answered in a month. When she had finished, she turned back and read portions of it again, especially the direction as to finding the treasure, and the postscript bequests by the Duvals.