"And he never shall see them!" announced Mrs. Pedders emphatic.
"H-m-m-m!" says I. "A whole boxful that nobody's opened? But suppose now that some of 'em wa'n't--say, why not take a look at the lot, just the outsides?"
Neither Mrs. Pedders nor Luella took kind to that proposition; but somehow I had a vague hunch it ought to be done. I couldn't say exactly why, either. But I kept urgin' and arguin', and at last they gave in. They'd show me the outsides, anyway; that is, Luella might, if she wanted to. Mrs. Pedders didn't even want to see the box.
"I meant to have burned them long ago," says she. "They're just letters from idle, cruel people, that's all. And you don't know how many such there are in the world, Mr. McCabe. I hope you never will know. But go up with Luella if you wish."
So we did, J. Bayard glancin' suspicious at the dust and cobwebs and protectin' his silk hat and clothes cautiously. It's a good-sized box too, with a staple and padlock to keep the cover down. Luella hunted up the key and handed out bunch after bunch. Why do people want to write to parties they've read about in the newspapers? What's the good too, of jumpin' on bank wreckers and such at long range? Why, some even let their spite slop over on the envelopes. To see such a lot of letters, and think how many hard thoughts they stood for, almost gave you chills on the spine.
Didn't seem to do much good to paw 'em over now, at this late date, either. I was almost givin' up my notion and tellin' Luella that would be about enough, when I noticed a long yellow document envelope stowed away by itself in a corner.
She hands it out mechanical, as she'd done the rest.
"Gordon & Co., Broad Street, New York! Why, say, that's the Pyramid Gordon I was askin' about."
"Might give us some clew," I goes on, "as to what him and your Paw had a run-in about."
"Well, open it, if you like," says Luella careless.
J. Bayard and I takes it over to the window and inspects the cancel date.
"June, 1894," says I. "Twenty-eight cents postage; registered too. Quite a package. Well, here goes!"
"Bonds," says Steele, takin' a look. "That old Water Level Development Company's too."
"And here's a note inside," says I. "Read it."
It was to John Wesley Pedders, cashier of the Merchants' Exchange Bank, from Mr. Gordon. "In depositing securities for a loan, on my recent visit to your bank," it runs on, "I found I had brought the wrong set; so I took the liberty, without consulting your president, of substituting, for a few days, a bundle of blanks. I am now sending by registered mail the proper bonds, which you may file. Trusting this slight delay has caused you no inconvenience, I am----"