Thereupon Walter related the story of the journalist, Tom Norton; of his going to Texas with his wife and daughter; how both he and his wife died at San Antonio, leaving the girl an orphan. Then came the matter of the fortune left the girl.
“It was an uncle of her father’s who willed it to her,” said Walter. “He was an odd sort of an old man, and had for his lawyer his only other relative, one Sam Davidge, who is known throughout Kentucky as a double-dealer and a man who does not stop at small things to gain his ends.”
“I’ve heard of him,” said Crockett.
“But the old man finally dropped Davidge. My father never knew why, but suspects he found him out in some dishonest work. Davidge had been named as executor to the estate; but the old gentleman now altered this. In a sort of codicil, my father was named as executor. When the old gentleman died some few weeks ago, Davidge set up a claim that he had been influenced, that he was of weak mind when the codicil was attached to the will.”
Then the young fellow related the nature of his trip to Texas; of Davidge’s following him, and of the appearance of Colonel Huntley and Barker upon the scene. And Crockett listened to it all with much attention, nodding his head at points well made, and putting in a helpful word here and there.
When Walter had finished, the colonel lay back in his chair in a careless, lounging fashion and spoke.
“Their idea is, as you say, to reach the girl first,” said he, “and to let them do that would be dangerous. Of course they may mean only to influence her; but then, again, they may mean worse.”
“You don’t mean——” but Walter was afraid to finish the sentence.
Crockett nodded.
“That is just what I mean,” said he. “Davidge is the only other relative, you say. Well, if the girl never appeared in Louisville, Davidge would come into the money.”