“Do you ask it of me?”
“Certainly I do. There is nobody else to answer it.”
“Then you have got me pinned down to a fine point, and if I reply to the question I shall do so truthfully. I did find something after he left—or rather Tom did, and it amounts to the same thing.”
“What was it?”
“A pocket-book.”
“Where is it?” shouted Henderson, his eyes blazing with excitement. “Hand it out here!”
“It’s in my pocket, and there it will stay until I can give it into the hands of Mr. Chisholm,” I answered, as firmly as I could. “In it is a will which relates to Bob Davenport——”
“It is a fraud!” exclaimed Henderson, turning all sorts of colors. “Hand it out here so that I can look at it! I am not going to be cheated out of my cattle in this way.”
“The will is in Mr. Davenport’s own hand-writing, and to it are attached our signatures, with Bob as a witness.”
“It’s a fraud—a clean and scandalous lie!” vociferated Henderson. “How much do you boys calculate you are going to make out of this?”