"What!" exclaimed Paul Morton. "Do you think I will suffer myself to be subjected to such a degrading suspicion—a man of my position in society—what advantage could I possibly reap from my friend's death?"
"He was a rich man," suggested James Cromwell, significantly.
"That is true," said the merchant, with self-possession. "He was a rich man."
"And he may have left his property to you."
"You happen to be mistaken there. He had left his property to his son, a boy of fourteen."
"Where is this son?" asked the clerk, a little taken aback by this discovery, which was new to him.
"He is now in my house."
"And suppose the boy dies?"
It was now Paul Morton's turn to hesitate.