Cora instantly guessed what this meant—a trick of Rob Roland. To show her the book! To make sure it was now useless, as the table had been made secure by him, but just to put it in that case to taunt her, when she would come, as of course he knew she would, and discover there was now absolutely no hope of ever recovering Wren's long-lost treasure.
She looked vaguely into the glass case. "So you did get the table?" she said indifferently.
"Yes, that, too," said the man. But he made no attempt to display it.
"Can't I see it? You said you would make me one like it—"
"Oh, yes. I know I did. But my customer is very particular, and I have agreed not to show it."
"Cora's heart sank. She must be shrewd now or lose what she had so long worked for.
"But you made the agreement with me first," she argued. "You promised to let me see the table, and said you would make me one to order, not like it, of course, but in the same line."
The old man shook his head. He had evidently changed his mind.
A new thought came to Cora. "Has your customer paid for the table?" she asked.
"Oh, it will be paid for—it will be paid for," and he seemed to gloat over the words, "when it is delivered."