"This is getting to be quite a puzzle," declared Mr. Weatherby. "Suppose you explain."
"Well, you certainly surprise me," went on Mr. Clayton. "And Nat didn't get anything after his father died?"
"Not a cent. How could he? Mr. Morton left no papers of any kind."
"Well, he certainly did, for I saw 'em. There was a whole walletful, and among them was a certificate of his share in the lumber deal."
"What lumber deal? What wallet?" asked Nat excitedly.
"I'd better begin at the beginning," said Mr. Clayton, "and tell it all regularly—that is, as much as I know. But first I must have some more lemonade."
He filled his glass from the pitcher, drank a goodly draught of the beverage, and began:
"Jim and I and several others formed a syndicate on that lumber. That is, we all put our money together and purchased the load. It was good timber, and the price was high, and we stood to make considerable. Jim had five shares, and each share was worth in the neighborhood of three hundred dollars. I had two shares."
"Then my father had fifteen hundred dollars in that lumber deal," said Nat.
"That's what he had, my boy, and where it went to is a mystery."