"Oh, no," the judge replied cheerfully. "To be quite frank with you, our position is this: French, shortly before his death, delivered to his niece a conveyance in duplicate from you to her father purporting to convey certain lands therein described. This land lies immediately east of the coal lands, but does not include them. We claim that this latter conveyance is the true and original one."
"Where did you get it?" Mr. Braden demanded.
"Suppose French, feeling his end approaching, gave it to his niece?"
"He—" Mr. Braden began and checked himself suddenly. Riley was laying verbal traps for him. He must be careful. "If you have this conveyance, let me see it."
"You will see it at the proper time."
"You mean that you haven't got it," Mr. Braden charged.
The judge smiled. "You think I am trying to trap you into an admission. Nothing of the sort. I said we could produce the documents. The only difference between them and the others is the description of the property. Same date, same witness. It's useless to deny the existence of documents which I myself have seen."
There was no doubt that the judge was telling the truth. So Garland had sold out to Mackay. Mr. Braden's front trenches were carried, but he believed his second line to be impregnable.
"I'm not denying its existence. I know all about the thing, including the fact that it was stolen from me."
"The main thing is that it exists."