And that night, his supper being eaten, and the door closed upon his landlady, he lighted his pipe, sat down to his desk, unlocked one of its drawers, and from an old file-box drew out some papers.

One of these, a half-sheet of ruled foolscap, he laid in front of him, the rest he put back.

And then, propping his chin on his folded hands, Stoner gave that half-sheet a long, speculative inspection.
If anybody had looked over Stoner's shoulder they would have seen him gazing at a mass of figures.

The half-sheet of foolscap was covered with figures: the figuring extended to the reverse side.

And--what a looker-on might not have known, but what Stoner knew very well--the figures were all of Cotherstone's making--clear, plain, well-formed figures.