“Yes, for a time,” rejoined Jack in the same even, unhurried voice.

The clerk brought in the slip of paper, passed it to his employer, who examined it closely, and who then affixed his signature.

“If you get any more of that kind of stuff and want help in the new work, let me know.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Jack, folding up the precious scrap and slipping it into his pocket.

Breen waited until Jack had closed the door, pulled from a pigeon-hole a bundle of papers labelled Maryland Mining Company, touched another button summoning his stenographer, and said in a low voice to himself: 

“Yes, I have it!  Something is going on in that ore property.  I’ll write and find out.”

CHAPTER XXXII

The Board of Church Trustees met, as customary, on Monday night, but there was no business transacted except the passing of a resolution expressing its deep regret over the loss of “our distinguished fellow-townsman, whose genius has added so much to the beautifying of our village, and whose uprightness of character will always be,” etc., etc.

Neither Jack nor McGowan, nor any one representing their interests, was present.  A hurried glance over Garry’s check and bank-books showed that the money to pay McGowan’s vouchers—­the exact sum—­had been drawn from the fund and deposited to Garry’s personal credit in his own bank in New York.  Former payments to McGowan had been made in this way.  There was therefore no proof that this sum had been diverted into illegitimate channels.

McGowan was paid that same Monday afternoon, Jack bringing the papers to the contractor’s office, where they were signed in the presence of Murphy and his clerk.

And so the matter was closed, each and every one concerned being rejoiced over the outcome.

“Mr. Minott (it was ‘Mr.’ now) had a big stack of money over at his stepfather’s bank,” was Murphy’s statement to a group around a table in one of the bar-rooms of the village.  “He was in a big deal, so Mac thinks, and didn’t want to haul any of it out.  So when he died Mr. Breen never squawked—­just went over and told the old man that Mac wanted the money and to fork out; and he did, like a good one.  I seen the check, I tell ye.  Oh! they’re all in together.  Mr. Breen’s kin to them New York folks, and so is Mrs. Minott.  He’s her father, I hear.  I think Mac shot off his mouth too quick, and I told him so, but he was so het up he couldn’t keep still.  Why, them fellers has got more money than they can throw away.  Mac sees his mistake now.  Heard him tell Mr. Breen that Mr. Minott was the whitest man he ever knowed; and you bet yer life he’s right.”