“So I thought. That money ought to be handed over to me.”
“I don’t see that, Mr. Fox.”
“You don’t see that?” interrogated Fox sharply. “Do you mean to keep it yourself?”
“Not for my own use; I am not that kind of a man, Mr. Fox. But I have no authority to hand the money over in the unceremonious way you expect.”
“Why not? Isn’t the boy dead?”
“I have no proof of it.”
“What better proof do you want than the New York Herald?”
“The account in the Herald may contain errors.”
“Perhaps you think the boy could swim to shore a few hundred miles,” suggested John Fox with sarcasm.
“No, I don’t think that likely.”