The answers, addressed and stamped for the post, at length lay ready on the table. Mr. Preen then took out his pocket-book and extracted from it that ten-pound bank-note given him the previous morning by Mr. Todhetley for the children’s pony, the note he had got the Squire to indorse, as I have already told. Letting the bank-note lie open before him, Mr. Preen penned a few lines, as follows, Oliver looking on:—
“Dear Sir,—I enclose you the ten pounds. Have not been able to send it before. Truly yours, G. Preen.”
Mr. Preen folded the sheet on which he had written this, put the bank-note within it, and enclosed all in a good-sized business envelope, which he fastened securely down. He then addressed it to John Paul, Esquire, Islip, and put on a postage stamp.
“I shall seal this, Oliver,” he remarked; “it’s safer. Get the candle and the wax. Here, you can seal it,” he added, taking the signet ring from his finger, on which was engraved the crest of the Preen family.
Oliver lighted a candle kept on a stand at the back for such purposes, brought it to the table, and sealed the letter with a large, imposing red seal. As he passed the ring and letter back to his father, he spoke.
“If you are particularly anxious that the letter should reach Mr. Paul safely, father, and of course you are so, as it contains money, why did you not send it by hand? I would have taken it to him.”
“There’s nothing safer than the post,” returned Mr. Preen, “and I want him to have it to-morrow morning.”
Oliver laughed. “I could have taken it this evening, father. I can do so still, if you like.”
“No, it shall go by post. You want to be off to MacEveril, I suppose.”