"I don't believe it," retorted the old man. "There could be no proof."
"You've already given me five hundred dollars hush money which is indication enough that you accept my story as the truth."
"I did that merely to get rid of you."
"Well, you'll not escape so easily this time, Mr. Crocker. Either you turn over a good portion of the estate to me or I'll go to law."
"Your case would be thrown out of court. Without proof——"
"My proof will stand up in any court," Walter Crocker interrupted. "It happens that I have a certain packet of letters which were written to you by my mother before her death. And there is another communication from a woman named Hilda Frank——"
"So you are the one who stole the letters from the trunk of my cottage!" Herman Crocker cried in rage. "I could have you arrested for house breaking!"
"I'd not act too hastily if I were you," returned the nephew coolly. "However, I didn't steal the letters. They came into my possession in a perfectly legitimate way."
"I know better. You could have obtained those letters only by stealing them!"
"I'll not argue with you," replied Walter Crocker evenly, "for after all it is immaterial. The point is that I have the letters. Now will you come to terms or shall I tell my story around Kendon?"