“Great God!” he muttered.
Miller sprang up and looked at the stack of bills, but said nothing. Abner, leaning forward, uttered a little, low laugh.
“You—you didn't kill 'im, did you, Pole, old boy—you didn't, did you?” he asked.
“Didn't harm a hair of his head,” said Pole. “All I wanted was Alan' s money, an' thar it is!”
“Well,” grunted Daniel, “I'm glad you spared his life. And I thank God you got the money.”
Miller was now hurriedly running over the bills.
“You say you counted it, Baker?” he said, pale with pleased excitement.
“Three times; fust when it was turned over to me, an' twice on the way out heer from town.”
Mrs. Bishop had not spoken until now, standing in the shadows of the others as if bewildered by what seemed a mocking impossibility.
“Is it our money—is it our'n?” she finally found voice to say. “Oh, is it, Pole?”