“But look here,” said the young man, “I think this whole situation is really farcical. There is no common sense to it. You see, because I’ve always been messing among inventions and things of that sort, my grandfather got the notion that I was far from practical, and actually not qualified to take care of myself.”
“Old men have rather odd fancies at times,” said Kenyon.
“Just so. And he would not listen to any of my protestations; he ordered me under cover until you had come along and pronounced everything safe. The whole thing was absurd; but what was I to do? Even now I’m going against his wishes.”
“So it would seem,” agreed Kenyon.
“The idea of these partners of his being such formidable and ruthless persons, got to be a sort of obsession with him,” proceeded Philip Austin. “Why, he feared them, as far as I was concerned, as he had never feared anything before. You see,” lowering his voice and leaning toward Kenyon, confidentially, “he had the notion that they wanted my cousin, Scott Austin, to inherit the control of the business, in order that the contraband end of it should continue.”
“Ah!”
“You know, this branch of the business of Austin & Co. was largely carried on by Farbush, at New York, and Hong Yo, at Hong Kong. I don’t think,” and the young man looked at Kenyon, appealingly, “that my grandfather ever profited a dollar by it.”
“Perhaps not.”
“When it became known that the old man was about to die—that he could not live above a few months at most, he sent a young man, a minor partner, Forrester by name, to acquaint me with many things which he felt that I should know—he meaning that I should be his heir. I remember very distinctly expressing myself plainly as to the illegal features of the business of Austin & Co. If I should ever come into control, I promised to smash the contraband end as flat as a board.”
“And Forrester told the other partners at Hong Kong and New York?”