He stooped to pick it up. As he did so, he saw,
in the dim light, the option lying exactly where Pancho Lopez had tossed
it. He grasped it in his hand, crushed and crumpled as it was, and thought
no one had observed him. But Uncle Henry's eagle eye had seen his movement.
"What's that?" he called out.
Pell tried to seem unconcerned. "The option, my dear sir," he answered
truthfully.
"By gollies, he's got it again!" Uncle Henry yelled, in desperation. He
switched his chair around, and faced Gilbert. "Why didn't you tear it up
while he was dead?" he asked.
Pell addressed Uncle Henry. "You've got ten thousand dollars of my money,"
he firmly said.
"_I_ have?"
"I want it," was the other's immediate reply.
"It was paid me for a debt," the old man said.
"It was stolen from me first," Morgan Pell stated, calmly. "Come across."
He put one hand out. The other still held the cloth to his wounded
forehead.
"I'll be cussed if I will!" the invalid cried. He clapped his hands over
his vest pocket, where the money was safely hidden.
"Why, you poor old crook--" Pell began, rose, and snatched the money from
Uncle Henry before anyone knew what he was doing. All his old fire was
back.
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