"That is the law in New York," he said, "but here the statute doesn't
begin to run for twenty years. The twenty years for which this note
was given expires to-day."

"Then it is good?" demanded the colonel, looking at his watch.

"It is good," said Caxton, "provided there is no defence to it except
the statute, and provided I can file a petition on it in the county
clerk's office by four o'clock, the time at which the office closes.
It is now twenty minutes of four."

"Can you make it?"

"I'll try."

Caxton, since his acquaintance with Colonel French, had learned
something more about the value of half an hour than he had ever before
appreciated, and here was an opportunity to test his knowledge. He
literally ran the quarter of a mile that lay between the colonel's
residence and the court house, to the open-eyed astonishment of those
whom he passed, some of whom wondered whether he were crazy, and
others whether he had committed a crime. He dashed into the clerk's
office, seized a pen, and the first piece of paper handy, and began to
write a petition. The clerk had stepped into the hall, and when he
came leisurely in at three minutes to four, Caxton discovered that he
had written his petition on the back of a blank marriage license. He
folded it, ran his pen through the printed matter, endorsed it,
"Estate of Treadwell _vs._ Fetters," signed it with the name of Ellen
Treadwell, as executrix, by himself as her attorney, swore to it
before the clerk, and handed it to that official, who raised his
eyebrows as soon as he saw the endorsement.

"Now, Mr. Munroe," said Caxton, "if you'll enter that on the docket,
now, as of to-day, I'll be obliged to you. I'd rather have the
transaction all finished up while I wait. Your fee needn't wait the
termination of the suit. I'll pay it now and take a receipt for it."

The clerk whistled to himself as he read the petition in order to make
the entry.

"That's an old-timer," he said. "It'll make the old man cuss."

"Yes," said Caxton. "Do me a favour, and don't say anything about it
for a day or two. I don't think the suit will ever come to trial."

_Thirty-one_

On the day following these events, the colonel, on the arm of old
Peter, hobbled out upon his front porch, and seating himself in a big
rocking chair, in front of which a cushion had been adjusted for his
injured ankle, composed himself to read some arrears of mail which had
come in the day before, and ov