“Harold,” she said, coming nearer, “I’ve made him hate me.”
“Hate you? There isn’t a man living who could do that. No one was ever blessed with a more wonderful sister than I’ve been.”
Elizabeth stared at her brother. Never had she heard him make such a sentimental statement. He had turned from her, and was looking into the street below. With a sharp swing he faced about.
“Come, tell me all you know about Phillips and the estate.”
“I guess I really don’t know very much 321 more than I’ve told you. I know the man is a half-brother of Uncle Josiah, and that he mortgaged the old homestead to Father, and that he married some trader’s daughter in Australia, and that the trader died, leaving a large fortune. That’s all.”
“Read those,” said Harold, handing her some papers which he had brought with him from his own desk. “And keep your nerve. There are more.”
Elizabeth read the papers through. One was the original document of the trader’s will; the other was an Australian Government paper, exonerating Mr. Adoniah Phillips. A postscript to the will stated that Mr. Phillips had left Australia for America.
“I knew all that,” said the girl as she returned the papers. “But they do help to make matters clearer. I wasn’t really certain he had come over here. Have you found him?”
“No. I’ve never seen the man. What is more, not one penny of that vast estate has yet come into the possession of Adoniah Phillips.”