To explain what he meant, Tom Chandler read aloud the two letters he held; the short one, which had been first addressed to Mr. Preen by the Old Bank, and then the longer one written by Mr. Corles.
“Edward Corles must be a fool to write that!” exclaimed the Squire in his hot fashion.
“Well, he is not that, you know,” said Tom Chandler. “The question is, Squire, what the grounds can be upon which they so positively state it. According to their assertion, young Mr. Todhetley changed the note at the silversmith’s on the morning of Thursday, the seventeenth of June.”
“Young Mr. Todhetley” in a general way was just as hot as his father, apt to fly out for nothing. I expected to see him do so now. Instead of which, he had a broad smile on his face, evidently regarding the accusation as a jest. He had perched himself on the arm of the sofa, and sat there grinning.
This struck Tom Chandler. “Did you do it for a joke?” he asked promptly.
“Do what?” rejoined Tod.
“Change the note.”
“Not I.”
“The only conclusion Mr. Paul and I could come to was, that—if you had done it—you did it to play a practical joke upon Preen, and were keeping it up still.”
The Squire struck his hand in anger upon the table by which he sat.