“There is nothing remarkable about this,” remarked Nick, “except about the long-lost heir. That gives me a feeling that it may be the Milmarsh estate somebody is playing with. I don’t see how it is, exactly, unless some one has seen the attorneys, Johnson, Robertson & Judkins, and persuaded them that Howard Milmarsh has turned up.”
“How can that be?” asked Chick.
“Do you know for certain whether it is T. Burton Potter or Howard Milmarsh lying in that room at the Universal Hospital?”
Nick put this query significantly, and Chick immediately screwed up one eye.
“We might call up the lawyers on the telephone and find out something about it,” he suggested.
“We might. But I prefer to look into it myself. The lawyers will take what evidence is presented, and act upon it. They may have done so already. It looks to me as if they have. If I were to call them up there would be a lot of bustle immediately, and the scoundrels, if they really have tried to steal a march on me, would be on their guard.”
“It’s Lampton, I suppose.”
“And Louden Powers,” added Nick. “I have not much doubt about that. We’ll go up to room No. 2006 in that building and see what we can find out.”
“What are we to look like?” asked the young man, quite as a matter of course.
“I’ll be an old man, in shabby clothes. You can be my son, with spectacles and a cap pulled down low. That will be disguise enough. They would spot us at once if we didn’t do something to change our appearance. I hate to do that kind of thing, but it can’t be helped in this case.”