though the receipt was lost, wolverton could not give up his plan of extorting the interest from mrs. burton a second time. it might have been supposed that he would have some qualms of conscience about robbing the widow and the fatherless, but mr. wolverton's conscience, if he had any, gave him very little trouble. he would have thought himself a fool to give up one hundred and fifty dollars if there was the slightest chance of securing them.
towards evening of the day on which bob had interfered with him, he took his hat and cane, and set out for burton's ranch.
it so happened that bob answered the bell. he had been sitting with his mother, chatting about their future plans.
"good-evening, mr. wolverton," said bob,[pg 105] who felt it incumbent upon him to be polite to a guest, even though he disliked him.
"evening," returned wolverton, curtly. "is your mother at home?"
"yes, sir. will you come in?"
wolverton had not the good manners to acknowledge the invitation with thanks, but strode into the sitting-room, following bob.
the widow anticipated his visit, having been informed by bob that he had announced his intention of coming.
"good-evening, mr. wolverton. take a seat," she said, pointing to a chair a few feet from her own. "robert, take mr. wolverton's hat."
wolverton looked at the widow with a hungry gaze, for she was the only woman, he had ever loved.
"if she would only marry me, all her troubles would be over," he said to himself. "she's a fool to refuse."
we, who have some idea of mr. wolverton's character and disposition, are more likely to conclude that marriage with such a man would be only the beginning of trouble.[pg 106]
"i've come on business, mrs. burton," said the visitor, in an aggressive tone.
"state it, if you please, mr. wolverton," the widow answered, calmly.
"hadn't you better send your son out of the room? we'd better discuss this matter alone."
"i have no secrets from robert," said the widow.
"oh, well, just as you please; i don't care to have him interfere in what doesn't concern him."
"any business with my mother does concern me," said bob; "but i will try not to give you any trouble."
"the business is about that interest," wolverton began, abruptly.
"what interest?"
"you must know what i mean—the interest on the mortgage."
"my husband paid it on the day of his death."
"it's easy enough to say that," sneered wolverton, "but saying it isn't proving it, as you must have the good sense to know."[pg 107]
"when my husband left me on that fatal morning, he told me that he was going to your office to pay the interest. i know he had the money and with him, for he had laid down the wallet, and i saw the roll of bills."
"why didn't he pay it, then? that's what i'd like to know."
"didn't he pay it to you, mr. wolverton?" asked mrs. burton, with a searching glance. "carry back your memory to that day, and answer me that question."
mr. wolverton showed himself a little restive under this interrogatory, but he assumed an air of indignation.
"what do you mean, widder?" he demanded, bringing down his cane with emphasis upon the floor. "do you doubt my word?"
"i think you may be mistaken, mr. wolverton," said mrs. burton, composedly.
"who has been putting this into your head, widder? is it that boy of yours?"
bob answered for himself:
"i don't mind saying that i did tell mother that i thought the money had been paid."[pg 108]
"humph! you think yourself mighty smart, bob burton," snarled wolverton. "nat'rally you'd like to get rid of paying the interest, if you could; but you've got a business man to deal with, not a fool."
"you are no fool where money is concerned, there's no doubt about that. but i want to ask you one thing, if my father didn't pay you the money which mother can testify to his carrying with him on the morning of his death, what became of it?"
"how should i know? did you search his wallet when he was brought home?"
"yes."
"and you didn't find the money?"
"no."
"so you conclude that he paid it to me. let me tell you, young man, that doesn't follow. he may have been robbed when he was lying on the ground insensible."
"i think very likely he was," returned bob, quietly.
"what do you mean by that?" demanded wolverton, uneasily. "who could have robbed him?"[pg 109]
"possibly some one that we wouldn't be likely to suspect."
"what does he mean? can he possibly suspect me?" thought wolverton, fixing his eyes on bob's face. "but no! i certainly didn't take any money from him."
"you may be right," he said aloud; "but that hasn't anything to do with my claim for interest. whether your father was robbed of the money, or spent it, is all one to me. it wasn't paid to me, i can certify."
"would you be willing to swear that the money was not paid to you that day, mr. wolverton?"
"do you mean to insult me? haven't i told you it was not paid?"
"do you expect me to pay it to you, then?" asked mrs. burton.
"widder, i am surprised you should ask such a foolish question. it lies in a nutshell. i'm entitled to interest on the money i let your husband have on mortgage. you admit that?"
"yes."
"i'm glad you admit that. as your husband[pg 110] didn't pay, i look to you for it. i can say no more."
mrs. burton took a pocket-book from a pocket in her dress, and handed it to robert. bob opened it, and drew therefrom a folded paper.
"mr. wolverton," he said, quietly, "i hold in my hand a receipt signed by yourself for the interest—one hundred and fifty dollars—dated the very day that my poor father died. what have you to say to it?"
mr. wolverton sprang to his feet, pale and panic-stricken.
"where did you get that paper?" he stammered, hoarsely.
