“Oh, yes, I have!” she quickly cried.
“Then——”
“I don’t know! I can’t tell you everything. But—father is dead, and I am here.”
Enos Dugan, the smuggler, was dead! What had his life of lawlessness availed him? Had he been able by his unlawful operations to get together a fortune that placed this girl in comfortable circumstances?
Again she seemed to read his thoughts, for she added:
“He died poor. At least, that is the way it seemed.”
“I am sorry,” said Merry sincerely, “for your sake. Was his death sudden?”
“Yes,” she nodded painfully; “he was shot by revenue officers.”
This confession cost her an effort, but she went on:
“He had no time to tell me if he had anything saved or hidden away. I have thought that he had, but I cannot be sure. If he did, some one else got it all.”