“After what has occurred, I decline to pass another night under your roof. Andy will go with me to the hotel, and I shall leave you to-morrow, to spend the remainder of my days in his mother’s house.”
“So this is what you have been plotting, is it?” asked Mrs. Brackett, her eyes flashing. “This is why this boy crept into our home under a false name and under false pretenses!”
“He came because I wrote to his mother, asking her to send him,” said Mr. Dodge, with dignity.
“He came to help me, and necessarily had to take a new name, in order not to excite your suspicions.”
“Your mind has failed,” said Mrs. Brackett, sharply, “and you have fallen a victim to designing people.”
“No, madam. My mind has not failed!” said Simon Dodge. “I have escaped the designs of your husband and yourself, to whom I have already been more liberal than you had any right to expect. What property I have left will go to this boy, who is my heir, and I recommend you to destroy the forged will, which you instigated your brother to write. Should you undertake to interfere with me, this criminal project of yours shall be revealed to the public. Come, Andy, go and pack your things. We shall not spend another night under this roof.”
Half an hour later a carriage drew up to the door, and Andy and the old man drove away, leaving Mr. and Mrs. Brackett utterly overwhelmed by the discovery of their nefarious plans.
CHAPTER XLIII.
BAD REPORTS ABOUT ANDY.
Mrs. Gordon, in her humble home in Hamilton, was engaged in sewing toward the close of the afternoon. Her face wore an anxious look, for she had not heard from Andy for a longer time than usual. He had written, but the letter had not come to hand.