She opened her hand, showing a roll of bank-notes.
“This ready money I ought to have a right to take, to use for May and myself, and I’m going to do it; we need it at once to buy our mourning and other things.”
He looked troubled, for though honest and upright in his dealings, he yet dreaded to oppose her will.
“Let me see those notes,” he requested, holding out his hand.
She allowed him to take them, remarking as he did so, “It’s quite a nice sum—considerably over a thousand dollars.”
“Yes,” he said, turning them about with careful scrutiny, “but—”
“What?” she asked, sharply.
“They’re all marked; they’re the missing notes stolen from Lakeside; I know, for I’ve had a particular description of them from Sandy McAllister.”
“Well?”
“Of course we must restore them to the rightful owners; we wouldn’t be guilty of fraud, and we couldn’t use these bills without detection, even if we didn’t care for the dishonesty of appropriating them.”