“I guess you’ll think better o’ that before we get through, Mr. Westcott,” Gard said, with deliberation.
“Not much I won’t.” Westcott was admiring the rings he had blown into the air. “Fact is, my friend,” he went on, with an air of easy confidence, “the more I think of your little scheme the less I think of it. In the first place, it won’t work. My client is in possession. That’s nine points, you know. By way of a tenth point, he has a quit claim from Mrs. Hallard—”
“That’s one item,” Gard interrupted, softly, “that I guess you won’t care to dwell on, when the matter comes to be pushed.”
“Pushed!” Westcott ignored the first part of the speech. “I tell you, man,” he cried, “you’ve got nothing that can be pushed! That deed you an’ Kate Hallard pretend to have found hasn’t a leg to stand on. You’d better be careful you don’t get into trouble with it.”
“I’m going to, Mr. Westcott,” the slow, calm tone made the lawyer feel uneasy, he could not have told why.
“If it will save you any trouble, my friend,” he sneered, at the same time keeping a close watch on the other’s face, “I’ll tell you that I saw some time ago, in a Chicago paper, that Jared Oliphant is out of commission—softening of the brain. I suppose you weren’t banking any on him, though?”
“We’re banking on facts,” was Gard’s reply.
“And Sawyer’s skipped the country.”
“Who’s Sawyer?” Gard’s question came quick and sharp, nailing Westcott’s blunder fast. The lawyer looked blank for an instant, then recovered himself.
“Why Kate Hallard seemed to think you were going to get some help through him,” he lied; “but I know Sawyer. You can’t do it.”