“He got possession of only a small part of it. The rest remains somewhere tied up in the courts. Barker could not produce satisfactory evidence in regard to his identity, and besides, he did not have those papers I spoke about.”
“What papers are they?”
“They pretend to prove that your mother was killed as well as your father. The package also has a number of letters from Barker to Mrs. Rose relating to the changing of the children. I was holding them to get money, but that is all over now.”
“How did you learn of all this?”
“By prying around and following Barker, whom I did not like from the start. Then I got to drinking, and Barker and Casco made me their tool. I tried to reform several times, because Sarah wanted me to, but the appetite for liquor was too strong. But now I am done with it forever!”
As Blake finished, he caught up the flask, which was still half full of liquor, and hurled it with all his strength against the rocky back wall of the hut. It was smashed into a hundred pieces, and the liquor splashed in all directions.
“I swear that from now on I’m going to lead a different life,” went on the old man. “And if you will help me, I’ll do what I can to bring that gang to justice and assist you in getting your inheritance.”
“And in finding my mother, if she be alive,” added Bob. “Blake, give me your hand. From now on we are firm friends.”
The two shook hands. More conversation followed, and then Bob started up a fire, for the air about the hut was damp, and finding some coffee, made a couple of hot cupfuls, both of which were relished.
The young photographer asked Blake how he had come to locate on the islands, and was told that the old man at times grew utterly disgusted with himself and the world, and had found on such occasion a haven of rest there.