Part 10 (1/2)
At these words Percy staggered back, for the unexpected shot had struck home.
”Who--who says I paid the bill over to Mr. d.i.c.ks?”
”Will d.i.c.ks himself. You bought cigarettes, and gave him the bill to change.”
”I gave him a twenty-dollar bill, but it wasn't yours.”
”It was, and I can prove it.”
”How?”
”By a grease spot in one corner, made by the b.u.t.ter on a sandwich I had.”
”Is that all?” sneered Percy.
”I think that's enough.”
”Well, hardly. I guess there are a good many bills with grease spots on them floating around.”
For the moment Ralph was nonplussed. The aristocratic bully saw it and went on:
”You are afraid you are going to lose your place, and you want to get me and my father in your power, so we can help you keep it. But it won't work, will it, father?”
”Hardly, my son. We are not to be browbeaten in this style,” remarked Squire Paget, pompously.
”Then you do not intend to make good the amount?” asked Ralph, shortly, disgusted at the way in which the squire stood up for Percy.
”I shall not give you twenty dollars when I don't owe it to you,” said Percy.
”Will you tell me where you got that twenty-dollar bill?”
”I got it in Chambersburgh last week. A man asked me to change it for him and I did so.”
Percy had thought out this falsehood before, and now he uttered it with the greatest of ease.
”I believe my son speaks the truth,” added Squire Paget. ”You had better be going and hunt for your money elsewhere.”
”I don't believe he ever had twenty dollars, excepting he saved it out of the toll money,” sneered Percy, and he walked from the room.
Burning with indignation, but unable to help himself toward obtaining his rights, Ralph arose and without another word left the squire's mansion. It was too late to attempt to do more that night, and after some hesitation he went home.
Squire Paget watched him leave the garden, and then locked the front door and went back to the library.
”Ralph Nelson is getting too important, in his own estimation,” he mused.
”I thought he was a mere youngster who could be twisted around one's finger, but I was mistaken. I must get him out of his situation and compel him to leave Westville, if possible. I can't do much while he is around here.”
Squire Paget sat for half an hour in his easy chair thinking over his plans. Then he went to bed.