“You are a fool,” said Balcomb. “I’m not responsible for old man Dameron’s morals, am I? He was crazy to get money and came to me because he knew I had some snap and could get cash for his lots. He lied to me about it all along. You can’t charge me with notice of all the private history of the Dameron family. I didn’t know about the trusteeship until I took the deed. I was just as surprised as anybody when I found it out.”
Leighton smiled at Balcomb’s tone of outraged innocence.
“You’re such a cheerful rogue I don’t believe you really appreciate the fact that there are limits to human enterprise. Now your interurban friends are jays, aren’t they?”
“They are, my brother. They are the genus cyanocitta cristata, or common blue jay, and mighty fine types, I can tell you that.” He slapped his thigh in joy at the thought.
“You are a depraved beast,” declared Leighton. “It seems a shame to disturb your peace of mind; but I came here to talk business. Now, your agricultural friends, when you sprang this lot purchase, asked about the title to the real estate, didn’t they? If they didn’t they are not the farmers I take them for.”
“Your confidence is not misplaced. They did, and they quite satisfied themselves about it.”
“They wanted to see an abstract of title.”
“They certainly did, old man. You’re a regular mind reader.”
“They asked for an abstract of title,” continued Leighton, “and you gave them one, didn’t you?”
“Please don’t mention it, an thou lovest me. They nearly wore out the damned thing studying it.”