“I’d let it go at that, if I were you, Carter,” pleaded Captain Brown, his usually bronzed face a grayish white. “There’s no sense in raking up such a thing as this.”
“Yes, there is,” rejoined Nick. “Jarvis here has challenged me, and I will take it up. He claims this property is——”
“It is mine,” put in Jarvis doggedly.
“Because your son is dead?”
“Yes.”
“And when you knew that Howard Milmarsh had run away from this part of the country, you figured that he never would dare return, and that your son Richard would be the heir.”
“You can say what you like. The property is mine,” growled Jarvis, as if determined to stick to one idea.
“If your son Richard were to die, it would leave you the next of kin, so far as legal forms go. Therefore, it might be to your interest if Richard were to be put out of the world. He was not really your son, you know, but your stepson.”
“How did you know that?” demanded Jarvis, half rising. “It isn’t true, anyhow.”