He started back when his glance fell on Oliver.
"Why do you come here?" he demanded with a frown.
"That is a strange question to ask, Mr. Kenyon. This is the house where I was born. It was built by my father. It ought to be mine."
"Indeed!" answered Kenyon, with a sneer.
"You know it as well as I do, sir."
"I know that the place is mine, and that you are an intruder."
"Upon what do you rest your claim, Mr. Kenyon?" asked our hero.
"Upon your mother's will, as you know very well."
"I don't believe that my mother would make a will depriving me of my rightful inheritance."
"I care very little what you believe. The will has been admitted to probate and is in force. I don't think it will do you any good to dispute it."