“Oh, excuse me. I thought you did,” Tom went on. He realized that he had just saved the document from possible destruction, for the old man had certainly made a grab for the paper, and, had he secured it he might have held it to a burning gas-jet near his desk, where he had been melting some sealing wax when Tom came in.
“No, I don’t want to see it,” Mr. Doolittle went on. “It isn’t any good. Your father may have had an idea of putting that land in trust, but he didn’t do it, and you can’t prove that he did.”
This, Tom realized, was his weak point. He had absolutely no proof that the land was only deeded in trust to Captain Hawkesbury and Mr. Doolittle. That it was actually deeded to them was brought out at Mr. Taylor’s death, for the deed had been put on record, and they had claimed the land and sold it to the railroad company. They claimed that Mr. Taylor had given them the land in payment for money they had advanced to him.
“That paper isn’t any good,” went on the old money-lender. “It might just as well be thrown away. It has no value.”
It was strange then, Tom thought, that Mr. Doolittle should make such an effort to secure it. But he said nothing about that then. Mr. Doolittle appeared to have another sudden wave of anger.
“I haven’t any time to waste with you!” he stormed. “You needn’t come here bothering me. Now you get out and don’t let me see any more of you. If you think that paper’s any good why don’t you take it to some lawyer? There’s plenty of ’em trying to make a living at law,” and he chuckled mirthlessly.
Tom folded the document and put it back in his pocket. He realized that it would be of no use to show the paper to a lawyer. What would be the effect of an unexecuted deed of trust that was not even signed? Tom knew the only thing that would avail him would be the completed document itself, and that would have no effect unless it was dated after the deed that had been put on file—that deed which gave the property to the two men who had sold it.
Much disappointed, Tom went out. He had tried and failed. Well, matters could go on as they were. There was still West Point, and Tom had yet to make an assault on the final heights on top of which lay the coveted diploma. Once he had secured that, he would see what could be done.
Mrs. Taylor did not show much disappointment, however much she may have felt, and there must have been some.
“Never mind, Tom,” she said, when he reported to her the result of his call on Mr. Doolittle. “You tried, and that was the best thing to do. We aren’t any worse off than we were. We’ll get along somehow,” she said bravely.