Dave had been told by Mr. Lawrence where they might find Obadiah Jones, who was interested in a coal, lumber, and real estate business. Our hero, accompanied by his two chums, found the man in his office, a small, dingy coop of a place surrounded by huge piles of lumber. He was a short, stout, bald-headed individual, wearing large spectacles, and he looked up rather uninvitingly as they entered.
"Is this Mr. Obadiah Jones?" questioned Dave, politely.
"That's my name, young man. What can I do for you?" demanded the lumber dealer, brusquely.
"I came to get a little information from you, Mr. Jones, if you'll give it to me," went on our hero. "My name is Dave Porter. I came to see if you have a nephew named Ward Porton."
"Well, I did have a nephew by that name, but he's a nephew of mine no longer!" cried Obadiah Jones, his face showing sudden anger. "If you came here in his behalf, the sooner you get out the better! I wrote to him and told him I never wanted to see him nor hear from him again!"
"I didn't come in his behalf, Mr. Jones. I came on my own account," answered Dave. "All I want to know is: Is he a real nephew of yours or not?"
"Yes, he's my real nephew—the son of my youngest sister, who married a good-for-nothing army man. But that doesn't make any difference to me, young man. I won't do a thing more for him, nephew though he is. He's a young scamp, and as I said before, I never want to see him nor hear from him again."
"The reason I ask is, because there has come up a question regarding Ward Porton's identity," continued Dave, who could scarcely conceal his satisfaction over the turn the conversation had taken. "Porton declared to me that he had been brought up in a Maine poorhouse."
"That's all tommy-rot, young man! It isn't so at all!" stormed Obadiah Jones. "After his father ran away, to join some revolutionists in Mexico, his mother was hard put to it to support herself, and when she took sick and died, he was placed in the Lumberville poorhouse by some neighbors. As soon as I heard of it I sent for him to come to Montpelier, where I was then doing business. After that I brought him here. I gave him a good education and did everything I could to set him on his feet, but he began to smoke and drink and gamble, and get into bad company generally, and finally he left here and went on the stage as an actor. I heard he didn't do very well at that business, and so he got into the moving-picture business." Obadiah Jones looked sharply at Dave. "But what do you want to know all this for?" he questioned, quickly.
"I'll tell you why, Mr. Jones," answered Dave. And without waiting to be invited he sat down on a chair beside the lumber dealer and told the man the particulars of the trouble Ward Porton had caused him.