“No, I don't believe even _that_,” Walton jested. “But I'll tell you one thing, and I mean it. I don't intend to have you coming around bothering me with this matter any more at all. It is strictly my affair, anyway. That boy was a bad egg when he was here, and from the looks of you and your game I can't see that he has improved a dang bit. I don't say I'd arrest him, neither; half the debt has been paid, if it _was_ paid for a sneaking reason, and he can rove where he will. He is a good riddance. I used to bother about what might become of him, but I don't now.” “Say, look me in the eye!” Whipple suddenly demanded, and with a fierceness that almost sent a shock of surprise through the banker. “You've not believed what I have told you, it seems, because you thought I was after your dirty money. Hard cash is the only thing you _can_ believe in, I see, and so I am going to use some of it to convince you. You have no faith in your son--the only child God gave you, and who is now honoring your gray hairs as they don't deserve to be honored, but, thank Heaven! I believe in him from head to foot. Before I left Atlanta, this morning, I prepared myself for some sort of emergency like this.” Whipple took out a long envelope and threw it on the desk under the banker's eyes. “That contains three thousand dollars--six bills of five hundred each. Take them! Your boy's debt is paid in full. I may have spoiled his chances with _you_ by coming here against his knowledge, but he shall not lose by it. If I live to get back home I shall provide for him in my will. I may look like a faker, but I flatter myself--from all I have heard of you--that I am worth more to-day in the financial world than you could be if you could live another twenty-five years. Good-day, sir.” CHAPTER XIV |TAKING up his satchel, the merchant strode heavily from the room. Doubting if he had heard aright, Walton tore open the envelope and took out the bills. He spread them on the desk; he fumbled them with quivering fingers; he took out a big magnifying glass and essayed to examine them one by one, but his excitement and perturbation rendered it impossible. Dropping his hand on his call-bell, he gave a sharp ring, and Toby Lassiter came in quickly. Brushing the money toward his clerk, Walton said: “See if they are counterfeit. By gum!” The clerk examined them with the glass while Walton watched him with staring eyes. “They seem to me to be all right, Mr. Walton,” Toby said, wonderingly, as he laid the bills down. “I reckon they are--my Lord, I reckon they are!” the banker said, in his throat. “Credit it on my private account, Toby. Credit me with three--my Lord, I didn't think--I had no idea that the dang fellow--no, I'll attend to the money. Toby, you run out and see where he goes. He may make for a hotel, or he may--but hurry!”