They'd have cavilled until night, with no result, one holding out against the other. Tod brought away the note and the five sovereigns--which Salmon offered. We could send over another note at leisure, he said. I examined the envelope after we had hastened home: it was the same we had posted at Worcester, and did not appear to have been tampered with. Getting Anna Whitney's letter out of my best clothes' pocket, I brought it to Tod. The numbers were quite different from the note's. He stared like one bewildered: his eyes passing from those on the letter to those on the note. "Johnny, this beats bull-baiting." So it did--for mystification. "Are you sure you copied the figures correctly, old fellow?" "Now, Tod! Of course I did." "Let us go up to the pater." The pater was getting up, in defiance of old Cole and Mrs. Todhetley, and was dressed, up to his coat. He had a fire in his room and his white night-cap on. I told him about the note. Tod was outside, telling Mrs. Todhetley. He did not receive the news kindly. "The note I gave you to put into the envelope was one of those stolen from the butcher at Tewkesbury! How dare you bring your rubbishing stories to me, Mr. Johnny!" I tried to explain how it was--that it was not the same note; as the numbers proved. He would hear nothing at first, only went on at me, stamping his slippers and nodding his head, the big white tassel of the night-cap bobbing up and down. If Salmon dared to say he had sent him a stolen note to change, he'd teach Salmon what slander meant the next time the magistrates sat. Tod came in then with Mrs. Todhetley. The Squire had talked himself quiet, and I got a hearing: showing him the numbers I had taken down outside Anna's letter and the numbers on the stolen bank-note. It brought him to reason. "Why, bless my heart! How can they have been changed, Johnny?" Taking the packet of notes out of his pocket-book, he went over their numbers. They were all consecutive, the nine of them; and so was the tenth, the one I had taken down. He pushed his night-cap back and stared at us. "Did you two get larking yesterday and drop the letter on your way to the post?" "We took it straight to the post, sir, and put it safely in." "I don't know that I'd answer for that," stormed the Squire. "Once dropped in the street, there's no knowing who might pick it up, or what tricks might be played with it. Hold your tongues, you two. How else do you suppose it could have been done? We don't live in the days of miracles."