“Nothing there,” said Bob.

“The reason folks seldom find things,” said Scattergood, “is that they say ‘Nothin’ there’ before they’ve half looked....  They might be any quantity of things in this Bible that we hain’t overhauled yet.”  The old man stood a moment frowning down at the book.  “Births and deaths,” he said to himself.  “Births and deaths—­and marryin’s....”  Rapidly he turned to the illumined pages on which were set down the family records of the Beattys.  “Um!...  Jest sich a place as he’d pick out....  What you make of this, Bob?”

Scattergood loosened a sheet of paper which had been lightly glued to the page.  “Hain’t got my specs, Bob.”

The young lawyer read it, re-read it aloud.  “I, Farley Curtis, one of the two legal heirs of Solon Beatty, of Coldriver Township, do hereby acknowledge the receipt of ten thousand dollars, the same to be considered an advance of my share of the said Solon Beatty’s estate.  For, and in consideration of the said ten thousand dollars I hereby waive all claims to any further participation in the said estate, and agree that I will not, whether the said Solon Beatty dies testate or intestate, make any claim against the said estate, nor upon Mary Beatty, who, by this advance to me, becomes sole heir to the said estate.’”

Bob drew a long breath.  Scattergood stared owlishly at Mary Beatty.

“Now, what d’you think of that, eh?  Shouldn’t be s’prised if that was the i-dentical paper that was weighin’ on the mind of young Mr. Curtis.  Shouldn’t be a mite s’prised if ’twas.”

“What is it, Mr. Baines?” asked Mary Beatty.  “A will?”

“Wa-al, offhand I’d say it was consid’able better ’n a will.  Ya-as....  Wills kin be busted, but this here docyment—­I calc’late it would take mighty powerful hammerin’ to knock it apart.”

“And, Mary,” said Bob, “if I were you I shouldn’t mention the finding of it.”

“Not to a soul,” said Scattergood.  “We’ll take it mighty soft and spry and shet it up in Bob’s safe....  Anybody know the combination to it besides you, Bob?”

“Nobody but you, Mr. Baines.”

“Oh, me!...  To be sure, me.”

“And Miss Pound.”  “Um!...  Sairy, eh?  Course....  Sairy.”

Within twenty-four hours everybody in Coldriver knew a paper of great significance had been discovered affecting the heirs to Solon Beatty’s estate, and that the paper was locked in Bob Allen’s safe.  Bob had not talked; Scattergood certainly had been silent, and Mary Beatty solemnly averred that no word had passed her lips.  Yet the fact was there for all to contemplate....  Farley Curtis devoted an entire day to the contemplation of it in his room at Grandmother Penny’s....  That evening he invited Sarah Pound to drive with him.  She found him a delightful and entertaining companion.

Sunday was still two days away when Bob looked up from his desk to say to Sarah:  “This Beatty matter has kept us so busy there hasn’t been any time for pleasure.  You must be tired out, Miss Pound.  Wouldn’t you like to start early Sunday and drive over to White Pine for dinner—­and come back after the sun goes down?  It’s a beautiful drive.”