Barton Reeve was nowhere around. He had gone off to Hopsville to see Nathan Dobb.
He came in about half-past ten, and then Leo and he had a long discussion concerning the boy’s past and future.
“The squire is a sly one,” said the menagerie manager. “It was about as easy to get information out of him as it is to get milk out of a stone.”
“Then you learned nothing?” returned Leo, much disappointed.
“I did and I didn’t. He admitted that your folks were once wealthy; but he said the money was lost in speculations before you were left an orphan.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Nor I. I asked him for some proofs, but he would give me none. Then I asked him flatly how much there was coming to you when your folks died, and he said not more than a couple of hundred dollars. I wanted to see the papers, but he wouldn’t show them.”
“Didn’t you tell him we would take the matter to court?”
“I did, and it worried him a good bit. That is what makes me think there is considerable at stake. If he had nothing to hide, what is he so scared about?”
“Just wait till I have money enough, I’ll stir him up!” cried Leo.