Then his innate manhood began to assert itself. If what Romanoff had said were true, he must bear it. But, of course, he would not yield without a struggle. He would take nothing on the bare word of a man who, after all, was a stranger. Everything should be proved up to the hilt before he relinquished possession.
"Safe for the present!" Dick repeated, and there was a note of angry scorn in his voice. "Of course, if—if you are not mistaken, there is no question of safety."
"No question of safety?"
"Certainly not. If Anthony Riggleton is alive, and if he is the true heir to old Charles Faversham, he must make his claim, as I assume he will."
"Then you will yield without a struggle?" and there was a peculiar intonation in Romanoff's voice.
"No," cried Dick, "I shall not yield without a struggle. I shall place the whole matter in Bidlake's hands, and—and if I'm a pauper, I am—that's all."
"I know a better way than that."
"I don't understand you."
"No, but you will in a minute. Faversham, there's no need for you to fix up anything, no need for anyone to know what only you and I know."
"Look here," and Dick's voice trembled. "Are you sure that this fellow you talk about is Anthony Riggleton—and that he is the lawful heir?"