"No, you don't!" cried the old man, snatching it out of his reach.
"I'll keep this, if you please, to show my niece."
Garrison's eyes glittered.
"So, it was your hired thief who stole it, up at Branchville?" he said. "I don't suppose he showed you the skin that he left behind from his fingers."
"That's got nothing to do with the point!" the old man cried at him triumphantly. "I don't believe you are married to my niece. If you think you can play your game on me——"
Garrison interrupted.
"The theft of that letter was a burglary in which you are involved. You are laying up trouble for yourself very rapidly. Give that letter to me!"
"Give it up, hey? We'll see!" said Robinson. "Take it to court if you dare! I'm willing. This letter shows that another woman accepted you, and that's the point you don't dare face in the law!"
Whatever else he discerned in the case. Garrison did not understand in the least how Dorothy could have summoned him back here for this.
"That letter is an old one," he replied to Robinson calmly. "Look at the date. It's a bit of ancient history, long since altered."
"There is no date!" the old man shrilled in glee; and he was right.