And she held up the cheques and began to
cry.

"Put them in the fire! quick! we mustn't be tempted. It is a trick to
make the world laugh at _us_, along with the rest, and--Give them to
_me_, since you can't do it!" He snatched them and tried to hold his
grip till he could get to the stove; but he was human, he was a cashier,
and he stopped a moment to make sure of the signature. Then he came near
to fainting.

"Fan me, Mary, fan me! They are the same as gold!"

"Oh, how lovely, Edward! Why?"

"Signed by Harkness. What can the mystery of that be, Mary?"

"Edward, do you think--"

"Look here--look at this! Fifteen--fifteen--fifteen--thirty-four. Thirty-
eight thousand five hundred! Mary, the sack isn't worth twelve dollars,
and Harkness--apparently--has paid about par for it."

"And does it all come to us, do you think--instead of the ten thousand?"

"Why, it looks like it. And the cheques are made to 'Bearer,' too."

"Is that good, Edward? What is it for?"

"A hint to collect them at some distant bank, I reckon. Perhaps Harkness
doesn't want the matter known. What is that--a note?"

"Yes. It was with the cheques."

It was in the "Stephenson" handwriting, but there was no signature. It
said:

"I am a disappointed man. Your honesty is beyond the reach of
temptation. I had a different idea about it, but I wronged you in
that, and I beg pardon, and do it sincerely. I honour you--and that
is sincere too. This town is not worthy to kiss the hem of your
garment. Dear sir, I made a square bet with myself that there were
nineteen debauchable men in your self-righteous community. I have
lost. Take the whole pot, you are entitled to it."

Richards drew a deep sigh, and said:

"It seems written with fire--it burns so. Mary--I am miserable again."

"I, too. Ah, dear, I wish--"

"To think, Mary--he _believes_ in me."

"Oh, don't, Edward--I can't bear it."

"If those beautiful words were deserved, Mary--and God knows I believed I
deserved them once--I think I could give the forty thousand dollars for
them. And I would put that paper away, as representing more than gold
and jewels, and keep it always. But now--We could not live in the shadow
of its accusing presence, Mary."

He put it in the fire.

A messenger arrived and delivered an envelope. Richards took from it a
note and read it; it was from Burgess:

"You saved me, in a difficult time. I saved you