“Now, what do you think of that?” demanded Mudd. “Am I up and dressed or am I asleep? Answer me that, boy.”
“Oh, what’s the use bothering to answer you?” retorted Dick. “You have got the big end of the stick, that’s all there is about it—go ahead.”
“Very well, then,” said Mudd, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Dick Darrell, listen to me. You are the true owner of the Gold Queen mine. The claim was located by your father. It adjoins one which was worked out belonging to Colonel Tom Eglinton, and he made up his mind to join the two properties together, and when old Tom Eglinton once sets his heart on accomplishing a certain object I want you to understand, something has got to give.”
“All this is old business,” said Dick, as Mudd paused for breath. “Tell me something new.”
“That’s what I will. Tom Eglinton tried to buy your father out, but he wouldn’t sell. Then he hired a man to pick a quarrel with him and shoot him, which was done. Oh, you needn’t glare at me, Dick Darrell. It’s true. I’ve got the papers about me to prove it. I have papers which prove the mine his. I’ve got Colonel Tom’s letters to me offering me money to kill you. There! What do you think of that?”
“Want to know?” demanded Dick.
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, then, I think you are the man who killed my father and——”
“Oh, Dick! Dick!”
It was Clara!