“Both,” Fibsy spoke up. “I’ll bet it’s a worth-while yarn, and we’ll hear both sides—if you please. Ladies first; pipe up, Miss Lane.”
“The actual secret can be quickly told,” the girl said, speaking a little shortly. “The truth is, that Mrs. Wheeler is not the legal heir to this estate of Sycamore Ridge—but, Mr. Keefe is.”
“Curtis Keefe!” Stone exclaimed, and Fibsy gave a sharp, explosive whistle.
“Yes,” said Genevieve, well pleased at the sensation her words had produced.
Not that her hearers made any further demonstration of surprise. Stone fell into a brown study, and Fibsy got up and walked up and down the room, his hands in his pockets, and whistling softly under his breath.
“Well!” the boy said, finally, returning to his chair. “Well, F. Stone, things is changed since gran’ma died! Hey?”
“In many ways!” Stone assented. “You’re sure of this, of course?” he asked Genevieve. “How do you know?”
“Well, I learned it from Mr. Appleby’s papers——”
“Private papers?”
“Yes, of course. He didn’t have ’em framed and hanging on his wall. You see, Mr. Keefe, being Mr. Appleby’s confidential secretary, had access to all his papers after the old gentleman died.”