“I have. It is a reason which especially concerns the success of the legislation which we have discussed. If I stay I shall hamper you.”
“I will ask you to stand where you are for a few minutes, sir,” said the lawyer, commanding rather than requesting. He went to a cabinet and drew forth a package. He brought that packet to the table and began to sort photographs.
He selected one, regarded it with careful gaze, and shifted his eyes to the young man's face.
“Um!” he commented, with judicial tone. “Now—suppose you tell me—just how your continued presence in this state will hamper me”—he paused; he drawled the next words, emphasizing them—“Mr. Bristol!”
Farr had begun nervous retreat when the lawyer had begun comparison of the living features with the photograph. It was plain that he feared rather than understood.
“Hold on, there!” shouted the investigator. “You may as well stay and settle this matter, Bristol. You look at this picture! You recognize it, do you? If you are in any doubt I'll inform you that it's a picture of your father when he and I were in law-school together.”
“I deny any relationship to that man.”
“Your tone and your manner convict you, my boy. I jumped you with that name purposely. I am no fool when it comes to examining a witness. When I first laid eyes on you I thought I had seen you, yourself, somewhere, and I have been puzzling my brains. Then it occurred to me that I had known in my youth a fellow who looked like you. You're the son of your father, all right. Don't stultify yourself by lying to me. You are Morgan Bristol's boy! Hah?”
“I am,” confessed the young man, with resignation.
“What is your first name?”