"Yes! We wanted Marsh to lose the money."
"I do not see where the advantage would come in," said Dr. Jim reflectively, "the money would go to Frisco certainly, but he could not benefit, without running the risk of arrest."
"He was not to appear at all in the matter," explained Joyce. "When the money came to him, he was to feign death and make a will leaving the fortune to me; I was to share it with him and Santiago."
Herrick stared. The conspiracy was more complete than he had thought, and very cunning too. "Upon my word that is clever," he said in a tone half of jest and half admiration, "although I do not exactly see how the law would look at the matter. Frisco wanted for murder--to feign death--fortune left to you--money to be shared between the presumed corpse and the two plotters left alive. Why! it's like a melodrama. You would have had some difficulty in proving the death of Frisco though."
"Oh, Santiago was going to manage that," said Joyce with confidence.
"I am sure he would, even to going the length of making a real corpse of the man after the will was signed."
Joyce jumped up and began to walk up and down much agitated. "No," he said, "bad as you think me Herrick, I should never have consented to Frisco being put out of the way. The death would have been proved without that. Frisco would have received his share of the money. He would have gone free. I would rather die myself than that anything should happen to Frisco. Yes, you may look; I would."
Dr. Jim shrugged his shoulders. "Your conscience has grown very tender all of a sudden, that you should desire to shield a scoundrel. Is Frisco a relative of yours that you should be so careful of his skin?"
Joyce dropped into his seat and looked straight at the doctor. "Frisco is my father," he said deliberately.
Dr. Jim jumped up in his turn and stared down at the pinched white face. He could scarcely believe his ears. "Your father?" he gasped, "is this another part of your conspiracy?"