“Well, he was a pretty sick man, and likely he made a mistake⁠—I reckon that’s the way of it. The best way’s to let it go, and keep still about it. We can spare it.”

“Oh, shucks, yes, we can spare it. I don’t k’yer noth’n ’bout that⁠—it’s the count I’m thinkin’ about. We want to be awful square and open and aboveboard here, you know. We want to lug this h-yer money upstairs and count it before everybody⁠—then ther’ ain’t noth’n suspicious. But when the dead man says ther’s six thous’n dollars, you know, we don’t want to⁠—”

“Hold on,” says the duke. “Le’s make up the deffisit,” and he begun to haul out yaller-boys out of his pocket.