"A thousand dollars!" he soliloquized. "It is a good sum of money. It would be a great lift to Adin Dunham. It would enable him to pay off the mortgage on his place, and that would not suit me. I prefer to foreclose by and by. Upon the whole the money will be better in my hands than in his. It was well I suggested to him not to come home by the creek road. That is too open, and would not suit my plans."
Lawyer Bates rose, and, taking a key from his pocket, opened the door of a small closet. It was a clothes closet evidently, but its contents were of a curious character. There was one suit that a fastidious tramp would have scorned to wear. There were several masks. There were disguises of different kinds, three wigs, one red, and false beards. Of what earthly use could these articles be to a respectable country lawyer?
Not even Mrs. Bates had seen the inside of this closet. Once she suggested cleaning it, but the curt refusal with which her proposal was received prevented her making it again.
"I keep my papers in there," said her husband, "and I am not willing that they should be disturbed."
"I would be very careful, Renwick," said Mrs. Bates. "I would attend to it myself."
"You will offend me if you say more, Mrs. Bates," said her husband, looking displeased, and she took the hint.
Mrs. Bates was a pleasant, gentle woman who did not put on airs, and she was much more popular in the village than her husband, whose face had a singularly disagreeable expression, especially when he smiled, for then he showed his long white teeth, which, as Mrs. Dunham expressed it, were like the fangs of a wild beast.
His son Brandon was like his father, even to the teeth. He was a boy of cruel instincts, haughty and imperious, and disposed to lord it over his schoolmates and companions. He was heartily tired of Waterford, and had more than once suggested to his father that it would be wise to leave it.
"When I want your advice, Brandon, I will ask for it," said Squire Bates briefly.