"I believe so, but they are saying little. On our own account, I have engaged this gentleman here—Mr. Creighton—to conduct an independent inquiry. Creighton, this is Mr. Varr's son, of whom you have heard."
Copley sent a keen look at the detective, then held out his hand.
"Glad to meet you—and very glad that Mr. Bolt has engaged your services. It is the very thing I would have wished. I have no confidence in the local authorities."
"That appears to make it unanimous," said Creighton, grinning. "Really, I'm beginning to wonder if these county fellows can be as stupid as they're reputed." He glanced at Jason Bolt. "Suppose I take Mr. Varr into the study here and give him a résumé of events to date? Somebody must, and I know the details better than any one else, perhaps."
There was a chorus of relieved approval from Bolt, Taylor and Miss Ocky and a quick nod of assent from Copley.
"I must have a talk with you, too, Copley, as soon as possible," added Jason Bolt. "It's hard to have to intrude business—"
"Oh!" interrupted the young man, and suddenly ran his fingers through his hair with a distraught gesture. "I'm in the deuce of a jam—! Aunt Ocky, when is the funeral?"
"We were waiting to hear from you. Now that you're here—shall we say to-morrow noon?"
"Very well. After that I must catch the one-thirty to New York." He shrugged his shoulders at Bolt's disappointed grunt. "It can't be helped, sir! And I'll be busy every minute until I leave. Are you sure that you need me after all?" He looked at the old lawyer who was eyeing him thoughtfully. "Judge Taylor, you had charge of my father's will, didn't you? Would it be improper for you to tell me whether or not I've inherited his interest in the tannery?"
"I'll risk the impropriety under the circumstances," said Taylor slowly, breaking a little silence that followed the question. "Yes, you have inherited a controlling interest without any restriction." He hesitated cautiously. "I'm assuming that no other will exists—I cannot believe there is any."