"May I ask what you are doing over here, with such a heavy transaction on your hands?"
"On my way to buy the lumber. I have the money in my bag," said he, holding up the article.
"Do you happen to have a package in your bag with my name upon it, taken from the safe?"
"I have; and I happen to have also an order from my mother for you to deliver it to me."
"Indeed."
"Here it is," he added, handing me a crumpled paper.
It certainly was an order, setting forth that all differences between Mrs. Whippleton and her son had been settled, and requiring me to give him the papers.
"When I was ready to go, I could not find you; so I took the papers; but you have the order now, and I hope you are satisfied on that point."
I was not exactly satisfied; but I felt that Mr. Whippleton was arguing me down, if he was not convincing me.
"How about those invoices?" I continued. "The agent of the Michigan Pine Company says he sold you no such lumber."