“Merely my expenses to the city, a slight fee and the court charges.”
“Merely a job to rob me, eh? You want me to pay good money to get hold of my own property?”
“If you are in a hurry for it. Otherwise, by allowing the law to take its course, the property will be returned to you without charge.”
She considered this statement, eyeing the young man suspiciously the while.
“I’ll think it over,” was her final verdict. “To-morrow I’ll drive into town again. Don’t you blab about what I’ve told you is in that box, Holbrook. If you’re goin’ to settle in this town you’ll have to learn to keep your mouth shut, or you’ll get run out in short order. Judge Ferguson never blabbed and you’ll do well to follow his example. Come, Toby; I’m goin’ home.”
“By the way,” remarked Mr. Holbrook, addressing the boy in meaning tones, “you’d better keep out of Mr. Ferguson’s offices until after an inventory is made by the proper authorities. If you have a key, as I suspect—for I saw you in the office—get rid of it at once; for, if anything is missing, you might be held responsible.”
Toby saw the value of this advice.
“I’ll give my key to Mr. Spaythe, at the bank, for safe keeping,” he said.
“That’s right,” returned the young man, nodding approval.
“Mr. Spaythe was the judge’s best friend and I think he’ll be the executor, under the terms of the will,” continued Toby, thoughtfully.