“Where did you get that money?” asked Squire Davenport, in evident discomfiture.

“I don’t think it necessary to answer that question; but there is another matter I wish to speak to you about.  When will you be ready to pay the sum you owe my father’s estate?”

Squire Davenport started violently.

“What do you mean?” he demanded hoarsely.

Harvey Dinsmore entered the room from the kitchen at that point.

“I will answer that question,” he said.  “Ben refers to a note for a thousand dollars signed by you, which was found on his father’s person at the time of his death.”

“No such note is in existence,” said the squire triumphantly.  He remembered that he had burned it.

“You are mistaken.  That note you burned was only a copy!  I have the original with me.”

“You treacherous rascal!” exclaimed the squire, in great excitement.

“When I have dealings with a knave I am not very scrupulous,” said Dinsmore coolly.

“I won’t pay the note you have trumped up.  This is a conspiracy.”

“Then,” said Ben, “the note will be placed in the hands of a lawyer.”

“This is a conspiracy to prevent my foreclosing the mortgage.  But it won’t work,” said the squire angrily.

“There you are mistaken.  I will pay the mortgage now in the presence of Mr. Dinsmore, and let the other matter be settled hereafter.  Please prepare the necessary papers.”

Suddenly the squire did as requested.  The money was paid over, and Ben, turning to his mother, said: 

“Mother, the house is ours once more without incumbrance.”

“Thank God!” ejaculated the widow.

“Mr. Dinsmore,” said Squire Davenport, when the business was concluded, “may I have a private word with you?  Please accompany me to my house.”

“As you please, sir.”

When they emerged into the street Squire Davenport said: 

“Of course this is all a humbug.  You can’t have the original with you?”

“But I have, sir.  You should have looked more closely at the one you burned.”

“Can’t we compromise this matter?” asked the squire, in an insinuating tone.

“No sir,” said Dinsmore with emphasis.  “I have got through with rascality.  You can’t tempt me.  If I were as hard up as when I called upon you before, I might not be able to resist you; but I am worth over ten thousand dollars, and—­”

“Have you broken into a bank?” asked Squire Davenport, with a sneer.

“I have come into a legacy.  To cut matters short, it will be for your interest to pay this claim, and not allow the story to be made known.  It would damage your reputation.”

In the end this was what the squire was forced very unwillingly to do.  The amount he had to pay to the estate of the man whose family he had sought to defraud was nearly fifteen hundred dollars.  This, added to Ben’s four thousand, made the family very comfortable.  Mr. Kirk was compelled to look elsewhere for a house.  No one was more chagrined at the unexpected issue of the affair than Tom Davenport, whose mean and jealous disposition made more intense his hatred of Ben.