“So do I,” said Coppinger. He drew a pistol from his pocket, and played with it. The two “dilapidators” shrank back. “So do I,” said Coppinger; “but I never go unarmed. I would advise you to do the same—if you are my adversary.”
“I hope, Captain, that—that——”
“If those children suffer through you more than what I allow”—Coppinger drew up his one shoulder that he could move—“I should advise you to consider what Mrs. Cargreen will have to live on when a widow.” Then he turned to Scantlebray, who was sneaking behind the window-curtain.
“Miss Trevisa’s letter, authorizing you to act for her?”
Scantlebray, with shaking hand, groped for his pocket-book.
“And the two agreements or estimates you signed.”
Scantlebray gave him the letter.
“The agreements also.”
Nervously the surveyor groped again, and reluctantly produced them. Captain Coppinger opened them with his available hand.
“What is this? Five pounds in pencil added to each, and then summed up in the total? What is the meaning of that, pray?”