Its unbound end was confined by a
thin rubber band. Davenport opened a drawer of the table, and essayed
to sweep the book thereinto by a careless push. The book went too
far, struck the arm of a chair, flew open at the breaking of the
overstretched rubber, fell on its side by the chair leg, and disclosed a
pile of bank-notes. These, tightly flattened, were the sole contents of
the covers. As Larcher's startled eyes rested upon them, he saw that the
topmost bill was for five hundred dollars.
Davenport exhibited a momentary vexation, then picked up the bills, and
laid them on the table in full view.
"Bagley's money," said he, sitting down before the table. "I'm to place
it for him to-morrow. This sudden call to Chicago prevents his carrying
out personally some plans he had formed. So he entrusts the business to
the reliable Davenport."
"When I walked home with you, I had no idea I was in the company of so
much money," said Larcher, who had taken a chair near his friend.
"I don't suppose there's another man in New York to-night with so much
ready money on his person," said Davenport, smiling. "These are large
bills, you know. Ironical, isn't it? Think of Murray Davenport walking
about with twenty thousand dollars in his pocket."
"Twenty thousand! Why, that's just the amount you were--" Larcher checked
himself.
"Yes," said Davenport, unmoved. "Just the amount of Bagley's wealth that
morally belongs to me, not considering interest. I could use it, too, to
very good advantage.
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