“The deed will show what he bought, and what she sold,” said Benson, with cold composure. “Unfortunately, Stark is dead, and the land has probably changed hands many times in all these years; but the deed will show what she sold—”
“The records show that she sold two thousand acres.”
“How do you know that?”
“I have seen the copies.”
“Humph! They have sent for those?”
“Yes.”
Benson meditated in silence for a moment.
“It's a great pity your aunt's acquaintance with her own affairs should have been so imperfect, but perhaps I should have seen that every point was clear to her mind. Since the records show that she sold two thousand acres, it is quite evident she parted with all the land she owned in Belmont County; and Stark is dead; however, I blame myself for the obscurity which seems to have surrounded the transaction. I will take on myself the responsibility of seeing that she is satisfied, though I admit no legal claim, I was merely her lawyer. In the morning I will send her check in payment for this thousand acres which she thinks she did not sell, but which according to the records Stark seems to have bought. It is hardly worth while to enter into a dispute about so trivial a matter. Stark paid five thousand dollars, as your aunt supposed, for a thousand acres; I will send her a like sum for the other thousand.”
Stephen gulped a great free breath. This was a simple dignified solution of the whole difficulty, but in the same breath he remembered that it was not five thousand but forty-five thousand dollars than his aunt expected to recover. How was he going to explain this to Benson. He sat staring blankly at the carpet at his feet.
“I think”—and the lawyer's voice was frigid, while a thin smile relaxed his shaven lips—“I think Ben Wade will find I am not to be trifled with in this manner. I have been disposed to think well of him in the past. I trust I shall be able to make my displeasure sufficiently evident in the future.”