Tony stared.
"There wasn't any baby," she exclaimed.
"Oh yes, there was. John Massey, Junior, had a son John who was kidnapped when he was asleep in the park and deserted by his nurse who had gone to flirt with a policeman. There was a great fuss made about it at the time. The Masseys offered fabulous sums of money for the return of the child, but he never turned up. I had to dig up the story a few years ago when old John died, which is why I know so much about it."
"I don't believe Alan knew about the baby. He didn't tell me anything about it."
"I'll wager he knew, all right. It would be mighty unpleasant for him if the other Massey turned up now."
"Dick, I believe you would be glad if Alan lost the money," reproached Tony.
"Why no, Tony. It's nothing to me, but I've always been sorry for that other Massey kid, though he doesn't know what he missed and is probably a jail-bird or a janitor by this time, not knowing he is heir to one of the biggest properties in America."
"Sorry to disturb your theories, Mr.—er Carson," remarked Alan Massey, suddenly appearing on the scene. "My cousin John happens to be neither a jail-bird nor a janitor, but merely comfortably dead. Lucky John!"
"But Dick said he wasn't dead—at least that nobody knew whether he was or not," objected Tony.
"Unfortunately your friend is in error. John Massey is entirely dead, I assure you. And now, if he is quite through with me and my affairs, perhaps Mr. Carson will excuse you. Come, dear."