“And I want money—but hold on a minute, I got something I want to sell you, Ben. Yes, sir, I am going to make a fair trade; a thousand dollars.”
“That's more than I can lay my hands on to-night, Tom, so come down to reason.”
“Well, five hundred then,” said Raymond eagerly.
“What's your trade, Tom?”
“You know when father took you in you gave him a buckskin bag full of papers. Where do you reckon they are now?”
“I don't know, I never had any more than your word for it, but you always said when I asked about them, that they had either been lost or destroyed, at least they were not among your father's papers when you came to look them over, but perhaps you lied.”
“That's about the size of it, Benny,” said Raymond coolly. “I lied. I had my own reasons for wanting to keep them papers out of your hands.”
“But they were not yours! If I had been with your father at the time of his death he would have given them to me.”
“Maybe he would, he was mighty curious in them ways; but you wa'n'. there, so he did the next best thing, he gave them to me instead.”
“To give to me, I suppose.”