Farley appeared almost instantly; dapper, his usual
courteous, self-possessed self. Scattergood began a peculiar and
roundabout conversation after the manner of a man who fears to broach a
subject plainly. Farley showed his irritation.
"Mr. Baines," he said, "suppose you get down to business. I'm going away
this evening."
"To be sure.... To be sure. It's overlappin' eight now, hain't it?"
Scattergood paused, listening. He fancied he heard some one approach and
halt just outside the door. He was certain that a chair creaked on the
porch outside the window.... He cleared his throat and drew a big yellow
envelope from his pocket.
"Calculate I'm ready for business, if you be.... Which d'you calc'late
is most desirable--havin' half a loaf, or no bread?"
"What do you mean?"
"You come to Coldriver on business, didn't you? Money business?"
"Why I came is my own affair."
"Certain.... Certain.... But things gets noised about. Things has got
noised about concernin' a paper that stands betwixt you and half of the
Beatty estate. Heard 'em myself." Scattergood waggled the envelope. "I
hain't exactly objectin' to makin' a leetle quick money
myself--supposin' it kin be done safe, and the blame, if they is any,
throwed somewheres else.
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