“The last, yes—it was the Metropolis Bank. But Meredith did not tell me the number of the box,” responded Elliott. “I do know, however, that he rented it that morning expressly to hold our funds.” Twice Hollister opened his mouth to speak, then glanced in doubt at his blind companion. Elliott, also, was staring at Curtis and it would have taken a more astute person than the little lawyer to read his expression.
“Mr. Elliott,” Curtis lowered his voice to a confidential pitch, “have you any objection to telling us the amount of money you placed in John Meredith’s care?”
“I have no objection at all,” declared Elliott, modifying somewhat his hearty voice. “It was one hundred thousand dollars in cash.”
CHAPTER XV
AT THE FORK OF THE ROAD
Gretchen looked at the panting woman before her with concern.
“Plees, Mees Hull, sit awhile,” she begged, pointing to one of the comfortable wicker chairs on the side veranda of Ten Acres. Gretchen had caught a glimpse of Mrs. Hull toiling up the brick walk, which led from the Rockville Turnpike into the grounds, and, by a circuitous route through the trees, up to the old mansion, and skirted it on either side. She had left the pantry window to open the little-used north door to admit her. Mrs. Hull subsided into the nearest chair with thankfulness.
“I declare, Gretchen,” she gasped, “this is a fearful place to reach from the city, unless you have a car.”
Gretchen’s smile, while expansive, was a trifle vague. It showed her pretty dimples to advantage. “Plees, I get you a drink—”
“Of water,” firmly. “I never touch anything stronger, Gretchen,” and the chambermaid vanished inside the house.