The money was on the table along with my hat and gloves. I picked
it up and shoved it in my overcoat pocket. And that was a darned
careless place to put it, too," he added, testily. "I'd have given
any feller that worked for me the devil for doin' such a thing."
Jed nodded, sympathetically. "But you might have left it there to
Sylvester's," he said. "Have you thought of telephonin' to find
out?"
"Have I thought? Tut, tut, tut! Do you think I've got a head like
a six-year-old young-one--or you? Course I've thought--and
'phoned, too. But it didn't do me any good. Sylvester's house is
shut up and the old man's gone to Boston, so the postmaster told me
when I 'phoned and asked him. Won't be back for a couple of days,
anyhow. I remember he told me he was goin'!"
"Sho, sho! that's too bad."
"Bad enough, but I don't think it makes any real difference. I
swear I had that money when I left Sage's. I came in here and then
I went straight to the bank."
"And after you got there?"
"Oh, when I got there I found no less than three men, not countin'
old Mrs. Emmeline Bartlett, in my room waitin' to see me. Nellie
Hall--my typewriter, you know--she knew where I'd been and what a
crank old Sage is and she says: 'Did you get the money, Cap'n?'
And I says: 'Yes, it's in my overcoat pocket this minute.' Then I
hurried in to 'tend to the folks that was waitin' for me.
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