"Twenty dollars."
"Was it in the form of one bill, or several?"
"It was a single twenty-dollar bill."
Mr. Jones, who had now taken his seat, looked insultingly incredulous.
"Can I ask a question?" he said, turning to Squire Marlowe.
"You can."
"I should like to ask Mrs. Barton where the prisoner obtained the twenty-dollar bill?" And the grocer looked around the court-room again, triumphantly.
"It came from my uncle, Jacob Marlowe," answered Mrs. Barton.
"Ah, that's it! Is Mr. Jacob Marlowe in town?"
"No, sir."