“My father left this place to me.”
“Who says that? And who has forged the will?” asked Dr. Flint.
“Them Kennedys; they hashed it up between ’em.”
“They did, did they? You seem to know a great deal about it. Suppose you question Jimmy O’Neill. I think he’d be able to tell a different tale,” said Dod.
“Jimmy O’Neill?”
“Yes, it was he who brought the will to us,” Agnes informed him. “Didn’t Mr. Willett tell you that?” she asked.
“He told me some cock and bull story about a will being made in an Injun camp, as if anybody’d believe that.”
“It is true, anyway,” declared Agnes. “Have you the will?”
“No,” the man growled, “the fool didn’t have it, after all. He’d have been set free by night if you’d ha’ let him be. I don’t see why you made all this fuss.”
“Well,” said Dod, “there’s an old sayin’ about givin’ a dog a bad name, ye know, an’ we thought it was time Park was comin’ home.”