“Maybe it was twenty-one years.”
“Then how did you know Boothy used dynamite to break the hardpan when he set out his orchard. Those trees were planted in the spring of 1920, thirteen years ago.”
Joe saw the Adam’s apple in the man’s throat work convulsively. “Likely I heard about it somewhere.”
“When Tucker came in, how did you know he had Boothy’s hat?”
“It must have been Boothy’s—Boothy allers wore the same kind.”
“How did you know of the blood? You were across the room. You couldn’t have distinguished a stain on a wet hat. Or—” The blind man paused. “Or did you know, before we left the room, that we were going to come back with a blood-stained hat?”
Joe could almost feel the man tremble. But no words came from the stark, startled lips.
“Nine thousand dollars,” Dr. Stone mused. “Simple interest for eleven years at six per cent. Five hundred and forty dollars a year. A total, principal and interest, of fourteen thousand nine hundred forty dollars. Sit down, Wilkes.”
Mr. Wilkes sat down.
“Make out a check to Jud Cory for fourteen thousand nine hundred forty dollars.”