CHAPTER XI
The Real Heir
Dick Faversham could not repress a shudder as the other spoke. The Count's words were so ominous, so full of sinister meaning that for the moment he felt like crying out with fear. He mastered himself after a few seconds, however, and his reply was calm.
"I see what you mean," he said quietly. "A few weeks ago I was poor, and without great expectation. Now——Naturally you wonder whether it is real to me, whether I can believe in my good fortune."
"It goes deeper than that, Faversham," was the Count's rejoinder—"very much deeper than that."
"What do you mean?"
"You believe that you are the owner of all this. You regard yourself as the lawful possessor of the Wendover Park estate, with all its farms, cottages, and villages; you also think of yourself as the owner of mining rights, shipping interests, and a host of other things, added to a very magnificent credit balance at your bankers'. Isn't that so?"
"Of course I do. What have you to say against it?" Dick spoke almost angrily. He was greatly excited, not only by the Count's words, but by his manner of speech.