When they had entered the parlor Toby explained the situation. Mrs. Ritchie wanted her box of private papers and Toby was not sure he had the right to give them up without legal authority.
“That is correct,” observed Mr. Holbrook. “You must have an order from the Probate Court to dispose of any property left by Judge Ferguson.”
“It’s my property!” snapped the woman.
“Very true, madam. We regret that you should be so annoyed. But you can readily understand that your interests are being safeguarded by the law. If anyone, without authority, could deliver your box to you, he might also deliver it to others, in which case you would suffer serious loss. There will be no difficulty, however, in securing the proper order from the court; but that will require a few days’ time.”
“There’s money in that box,” said Mrs. Ritchie. “I don’t trust those swindling banks, so the judge kept all my ready money for me. In that box are thousands of dollars in cold cash, an’ some government bonds as good as cash. I need some money to-day. Can’t this boy let me into the office so I can take what I want out of the box? I’ve got a key, if Toby Clark will open the cupboard for me. I drove to town to-day for money to pay off my hands with, and found the judge died las’ night, without letting me know. A pretty pickle I’ll be in, if the law’s to keep me from my rightful property!”
“You have no right to touch your box, Mrs. Ritchie. The boy has no right to allow you in Mr. Ferguson’s offices.”
“Never mind that; no one will know, if we keep our mouths shut.”
Mr. Holbrook smiled but shook his head.
“I am sorry you should be so distressed,” he said gently, “but the inconvenience is but temporary, I assure you. If you employ me to get the order from the court I will see that there is no unnecessary delay.”
“Humph!” said the woman, looking at him shrewdly. “Will it cost anything?”