"I mean," replied Dick, "that if you are old Charles Faversham's heir, and if you can prove it, there's nothing more to be said."
"You mean that you'll clear out quietly?"
There was evident astonishment in his voice. Apparently he had expected bluster, and perhaps a scene.
"Of course I shall clear out quietly. Naturally there are formalities with which you'll have to comply; but, if you are the true owner, you are, and there's no more to be said."
Riggleton looked at him with open-mouthed wonder, evidently staggered that Faversham was taking the matter so calmly.
Dick was silent. The fellow was getting on his nerves, and he had difficulty in keeping calm.
"Then you don't mean to fight it out?" he continued.
"Why should I?" asked Dick quietly. "You have placed your papers in Mr. Bidlake's hands, and left everything for his examination. Your identity will have to be proved, and all that sort of thing; but I hope I've too much self-respect to try to hold anything that isn't mine."
"Put it there!" cried Anthony Riggleton, holding out his hand. "That's what I call acting like a gentleman, that is. I sort of thought you'd get your monkey up, and—but there. It's all right. There's nothing fishy about me. I don't pretend to be a saint, I don't. In fact, I don't believe old Uncle Charlie ever meant me to come in for all his wad. S'welp me bob, I don't. I was never his sort, and I don't mind telling you that he as good as kicked me out from here. You see, I was always fond of a bit of life, and I've gone the whole hog in my time. But that's all over now."
"You mean that you're going to reform?"