"But it does not seem to me very probable that such is the case. Of course, I objected to being duped by an impostor. You cannot blame me for that."
"No."
"At first, your claim appeared to me preposterous, and I pronounced it to be so. Upon reflection, though I strongly doubt its genuineness, I am willing to take time to consider it."
"That is fair," said Gilbert.
"I shall consult with a lawyer on the subject, and institute some inquiries of my own. Then, besides, my time will be partly occupied with other business, on which I have come hither. You may come again, say in a week, and I shall perhaps be able to give you a definite answer."
"Very well," said Gilbert. "Good-morning."
"Good-morning," responded his uncle, following him to the door. "I'd like to kick you down stairs, you young villain," he added, sotto voce.
James Grey shut the door of his chamber, and sat down to think. It was certainly an emergency that called for serious thought. Gilbert's claim would strip him of four-fifths of his fortune, and reduce him from a rich man to a comparatively poor one.
"I am not safe as long as that paper exists," he concluded. "It must be stolen from the boy, in some way." But how? He felt that he wanted an unscrupulous tool through whose agency he might get possession of old Jacob's confession. That destroyed, he could snap his fingers at Gilbert, and live undisturbed in the possession of the fortune he wrongfully withheld from him.
Sometimes the devil sends to evil men precisely what they most want, and so it turned out in this particular instance.