“None whatever, sir; thanks to your strong letter!” replied Ran.
“Thanks to your strong proofs, rather. Who could withstand such overwhelming evidence? But, Hay, in none of your letters did you tell us who the rival claimant was, although I asked you to do so.”
“I never got your letter containing such a request, sir, or I should have complied with it. The reason why I never volunteered the information was because the subject was a painful one. And, by the way, has not Mr. or Mrs. Walling told you who that impostor was?”
“No. I have not had five minutes’ private conversation with them yet. Mrs. Walling may have told my wife by this time.”
“Well, colonel, the claimant was, not my Uncle James’ son, as I suspected, but a fraudulent adventurer whom we have known as Gentleman Geff.”
“Gentleman Geff! Why, I thought he had been quite killed by the same parties that half killed you, and that his bones were buried in the old fort cemetery!”
“So did I. So did we all. But we were mistaken. The body buried in the cemetery for Gentleman Geff’s was not his, but that of some poor victim of border ruffianism, whose identification we shall, perhaps, never discover, and Gentleman Geff is alive and flourishing in stolen plumes on the continent of Europe.”
“Tell me all about it!” exclaimed the colonel.
And Ran went over the story of Gentleman Geff’s crimes, already so well known to our readers.
Col. Moseley listened with grave interest; Mike with open-mouthed wonder, Judy in stupefaction.