"
"I think I can trust you," she said slowly. "You look honest. And
these papers-- ought you to have them?"
"Yes. If your husband does not give them up, he will certainly get
into great trouble."
"You are young, and you don't look as if you would lie. If Sam has the
papers, he shall give them to you. He's coming now."
"Here's all the evidence in the case," said Sammy Simpson, on
returning. He held a thick and long envelope. "What's the value to
you?"
"I can tell better after I have examined them," I returned.
"Will you give them back if I let you see them?"
"Yes."
He handed the precious papers to me and then sat down.
Oh, how eagerly I grasped the envelope! How much of importance it
might contain for me!
There were three letters and four legal papers. Like Nicholas Weaver's
statement, all were badly written, and I had a hard job to decipher
even a portion of the manuscript.
Yet I made out enough to learn that Aaron Woodward was the forger of
the notes and checks that had sent my father to prison, and that the
death of a relative in Chicago was only a pretence. The work had been
done in Brooklyn through that branch of Holland & Mack's
establishment.
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