“Yes, Mr. Bangs, surely,” he said, but he looked puzzled. “What is it?”
Galusha blushed and stammered. “Why—why—” he began; “I—ah—you see—it is—ah—something of mine.”
“Something you wish me to take care of?” asked Barbour, still looking at the envelope.
His caller grasped at the straw.
“Yes—yes, that is it,” he said, eagerly. “Dear me, yes. If you will be so kind.”
“Yes, indeed, Mr. Bangs. No trouble at all. I'll put it—”
But the little man stopped the sentence in the middle.
“If—if you please,” he protested. “Ah—please don't. I don't wish to know where you put it. Really, I don't, not in the least. I very much prefer not to know where it is.... Ah—good-day, Mr. Barbour. Thank you very much.”
The general opinion in the office of Cabot, Bancroft and Cabot concerning the senior partner's queer cousin was strengthened by this visit. The surmise that Galusha Bangs was a “nut” became a conviction.
But, for the “nut” himself, life during the coming weeks and months became a much less worrisome struggle. Returning to East Wellmouth, for the second time laden with legal tender, he delivered his burden to Captain Jethro, who, in return, promised faithfully never to reveal a word concerning the sale of his Development stock or drop a hint which might help to locate its purchasers.