"Liberal!" sneered Fitz. "He has given you ten thousand dollars for a hundred thousand. It's the best trade he ever made."
"Ellen, I am glad you are satisfied with what you have done. I give you the ten thousand dollars for the reason I stated yesterday—not because you had any claim upon me."
"I know you did, sir; and I am very grateful to you," replied Mrs. Wittleworth.
"After what I have done, it is not right that I should be annoyed by your son," added the banker.
"He shall not annoy you if I can help it."
"That's enough, Ellen. I forbid his coming here again on any pretence whatever."
"You needn't trouble yourself," replied Fitz. "I shall not come near you again if I can help it. I am rather particular about my associates."
Mrs. Wittleworth left the office, followed by Fitz. The fact that his mother had ten thousand dollars in her pocket did not seem to comfort him. He offered to draw the check for her, but his mother preferred to transact her own business. She presented the check at the bank upon which it was drawn, and deposited the money at another. She went home with a light heart, feeling that the wolf was slain, and that she was secured against grim want for the rest of her life.
Mr. Checkynshaw smiled when Mrs. Wittleworth had gone. Perhaps, as Fitz suggested, he felt that he had made a good trade. Apparently he had disposed of the only person who had the power to annoy him.
No one did annoy him. Constable Clapp came back from New York; but He brought no tidings of Pilky Wayne. The banker offered a reward of five hundred dollars for his valuable papers; but week after week passed away, and nothing was heard of them. The banker concluded that the rogue had burned them, so that no clew should be had to him.