"Rot!" Dick exclaimed. "You don't mean this and it's a bad joke!"
"We don't owe Jim much; if he had stopped in Canada, Langrigg would have been yours and mine. Then it begins to look as if Bernard approved the fellow, and I'm willing to admit I had rather counted on getting a good share of his money. You and Evelyn would have got the rest."
"After all, Bernard's money is his. He's just, and I don't imagine he'll leave us out. We're not rich, but if he does give Jim some of my share, I won't miss it very much."
"I shall miss mine," Mordaunt rejoined.
Dick was quiet for a minute or two, and then looked up. "You remember reading the French romance the night we reached the telegraph shack! Did you see Franklin Dearham's name in the book?"
"Yes," said Mordaunt very coolly, "I did see it." He paused, looking hard at Dick, and went on: "Of course, I know what this implies. There was some doubt, but the probability was the telegraph linesman was our relation and the owner of Langrigg. Well, I thought he was not the man to have the estate, and might be happier if we left him in the woods. It was not altogether because I wanted my share of what was his."
Dick did not doubt Lance's sincerity, but he had got a jar. In a way, Lance had tried to rob Jim.
"What do you think about him now?" he asked with some awkwardness.
"What I thought then; he is not the man to own Langrigg and ought to have stayed in Canada. I'd have been resigned, had you got the estate, but this fellow will make us a joke. He has the utilitarian ideals of a Western lumberman."
"Bernard is the head of the house and I doubt if he'd agree. You admitted he approved Jim."