The son looked at the father with a peculiar glance.
“He forgot his daughter in his will entirely then?” he asked.
“Yes.” The tone of Hickman’s voice was hard and dry.
“Wasn’t that rather strange?” questioned the son.
“Perhaps some people might think so,” was the reply, a sly but furtive look appearing in the shifting blue eyes.
“What did the people around there think of it?”
“Oh, nothing was said about it. There wasn’t any one in the whole place except myself knew that he had a child; and besides, as he distinctly said in his will that he left all his property to his cousin, Eben Hickman, what could people say?” asked the father.
“His cousin?” cried the son, in astonishment.
“Yes, that was me, of course. Vender and I came to the town together; he was a quiet sort of a fellow, kept himself to himself, made very few friends and spoke not at all of his private affairs; therefore no one knew any thing about him; no one disputed the will, and I came into possession of all his property,” and the cunning eyes twinkled with delight as he spoke.
“Let me see. I believe you’re quite clever with the pen, ain’t you?” asked the son, with a grin.