“And set my barn on fire! That explains it,” said Simpson, desperately.
“No, it does not explain it. With my own eyes I saw you set the fire. I understood your motive. I meant you to believe that you had succeeded, and I left the village during the night. I went to New York, made a fortune in stocks, and went to Europe, but I gave the five hundred dollars I had wrung from your fears to this boy, and sent him to California, where he succeeded better than I expected. Your old crime and your new one are discovered, John Simpson. Your race is run.”
“You can’t do anything,” said Simpson, defiantly.
“We can procure your arrest on a double charge of attempted murder, if you wish to stand trial.”
“No, no!” exclaimed Simpson, with blanched face. “It isn’t true, but it would blast my reputation.”
“It is true, and you know it.”
“Can’t we compromise this thing?” asked Simpson, nervously.
“It is for this boy to determine. Tom, what will you accept?”
“How much money of my father’s did Mr. Simpson obtain?”
“Ten thousand dollars, at least.”