Bob Burton

"Still I predict that he'll bring you deeper in debt every year."

"I don't think so; but, at any rate, I have promised to try the experiment for one year. I can then tell better whether it will be wise to keep on or sell."

"Now, Mrs. Burton, I have a better plan to suggest."

"What is it, Mr. Wolverton?"

"In fact, I have two plans. One is that you should sell me the ranch. You know I hold a mortgage on it for three thousand dollars?"

"I know it, Mr. Wolverton!" answered the widow, gravely.

"I'll give you three thousand dollars over and above, and then you will be rid of all care."

"Will you explain to me how Robert and I are going to live on the interest of three thousand dollars, Mr. Wolverton?"

"You'll get something, and if the boy runs the ranch you'll get nothing. He can earn his living, and I don't think you will suffer, even if you have only three thousand dollars."

"It is quite out of the question. Mr. Burton considered the ranch worth ten thousand dollars."

"A very ridiculous over-valuation – pardon me for saying so."

"At any rate, I don't propose to sell."

"There's another little circumstance I ought to mention," added Wolverton, nervously. "There is half a year's interest due on the mortgage. It was due on the very day of your husband's death."

Mrs. Burton looked up in amazement.

"What do you mean, Mr. Wolverton?" she said. "My husband started for your office on the fatal morning of his death, carrying the money – one hundred and fifty dollars – to meet the interest. Do you mean to tell me that he did not pay it?"

"That is strange, very strange," stammered Aaron Wolverton, wiping his forehead with a bandana handkerchief. "What became of the money?"

"Do you mean to say that it was not paid to you?" asked the widow, sharply.

"No, it was not," answered Wolverton, with audacious falsehood.

CHAPTER VI

THE LOST RECEIPT

"I can't understand this," said Mrs. Burton, beginning to be troubled. "My poor husband had made all arrangements for paying his interest on the day of his death. When he left the house, he spoke of it. Do you mean to say he did not call at your office?"

If Aaron Wolverton had dared, he would have denied this, but Mr. Burton had been seen to enter the office, and so that he would not do him any good.

"He did call upon me, Mrs. Burton."

"And said nothing about the interest?"

"He said this, that he would pay me the coming week."

"He said that, when he had the money in his pocket?" said Mrs. Burton, incredulously.

"Of course I didn't know that he had the money with him. He probably thought of another way in which he wanted to use a part or all of it."

"I don't believe it. He never mentioned any other use for it, and he was not owing any one except you. Mr. Wolverton, I don't like to say it, but I think he paid you the interest."

"Do you doubt my word?" demanded Wolverton, with assumed indignation.

"Suppose I say that you have forgotten it."

"I would not forget anything of that kind. You are very unjust, Mrs. Burton, but I will attribute that to your disappointment. Let me suggest one thing, however. If your husband had paid me, he would have been sure to take a receipt. If you have his wallet here – I happen to know that he was in the habit of carrying a wallet – and you doubt my word, examine the wallet and see if you can find the receipt."

Mrs. Burton thought this a good suggestion, and went up-stairs for the wallet. She opened it, but, as Wolverton had good reason to know would be the case, failed to find the important paper.

"I can't find it," she said, as she re-entered the room.

"Did I not tell you so?" returned Wolverton, triumphantly. "Doesn't that settle it? Wasn't your husband a good enough business man to require a receipt for money paid?"

"Yes, yes," murmured the widow. "Mr. Wolverton, if you are right it arouses in my mind a terrible suspicion. Could my husband have been waylaid, murdered, and robbed?"

"No, I don't think so. His death was evidently the result of accident – the upset of his team."

"What then became of the money – the hundred and fifty dollars which he carried with him?"

"There, my dear lady, you ask me a question which I cannot answer. I am as much in the dark as you are."

"If this story is true, then we are one hundred and fifty dollars poorer than we supposed. It will be bad news for Robert."

"It need not be bad news for you, Mrs. Burton," said Wolverton, in an insinuating tone, shoving his chair a little nearer that occupied by the widow.

Mrs. Burton looked up in surprise.

"How can it fail to be bad news for me?" she asked. "A loss like that I cannot help feeling."

"Do you think I would be hard on you, Mrs. Burton?" asked Wolverton, in the same soft voice.

"If you are disposed to wait for the money, or relinquish a part under the circumstances, Robert and I will feel very grateful to you, Mr. Wolverton."

"I might, upon conditions," said the agent, furtively shoving his chair a little nearer.

"What conditions?" asked Mrs. Burton, suspiciously.

"I will tell you, if you won't be offended. Mrs. Burton – Mary – you can't have forgotten the early days in which I declared my love for you. I – I love you still. If you will only promise to marry me – after a while – all shall be easy with you. I am a rich man – richer than people think, and can surround you with luxuries. I will be a father to that boy of yours, and try to like him for your sake. Only tell me that you will be mine!"

Mrs. Burton had been so filled with indignation that she let him run on, quite unable to command her voice sufficiently to stem the torrent of his words. As he concluded, she rose to her feet, her eyes flashing, and her voice tremulous with anger, and said: "Mr. Wolverton, are you aware that my poor husband has been dead but a month?"

"I am perfectly aware of it, Mary."

"Don't address me so familiarly, sir."