“I know what Baggs says, but my husband don’t owe him any sich sum.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed P. Allston Varney provokingly, while Baggs looked towards his lawyer with an amused air, as much as to say, “Only think of it!”
“As you generally know about your husband’s affairs, Mrs. Blake, what I wished to ask was, if you knew of any such document—but you have already implied that you did not—and could throw any light in any way upon this subject, and you might look at this and examine it.”
Baggs and Varney both stirred in their chairs and half arose, as if to intercept the passage of the precious document into Mrs. Blake’s hands.
“Oh,” said the Squire, “I will guarantee that no harm comes to the note. I will hold it and you can stand by and watch every thing done.”
As the note was thus held before Aunt Lydia’s sharply scrutinizing spectacles, her bodyguard in the rear looked over her shoulders and quickly read it.
“There is that pig!” thought Walter. “Yes, it’s the same sort of looking document, only the other said five hundred, and not fifteen.”
The sun outdoors had been endeavoring to pierce the clouds and succeeded for a few moments, and a bright, needle–like ray darted through the window and fell on the note.
“Doesn’t that ‘fifteen’ have a scratched look?” thought Walter. An idea came to him as if into his brain also a sunray had darted, making a sudden light there. It was not Walter’s nature to conceal anything, and he burst out saying, “Squire, may I call attention—”
Baggs immediately grew red in the face and nudged his lawyer, who sprang upon his feet at once.