The bearded mining man looked startled. “I’m afraid I don’t follow you,” he said. “Tell me plainly what you have in your mind.”
“Oh, I may be mistaken,” was the answer, “but it seems rather significant. As I’ve said, your partner’s condition makes him an easy mark. Does he by any chance know of the terms of your will?”
“Certainly. I told him what I had done after it was drawn up.”
“That’s a pity. I do not believe he has his eyes on the money. If I read his mental state aright, he’s only actuated by groundless, diseased hate and suspicion, and that so fills his distorted brain that it doesn’t leave any room for money considerations. It’s very possible, however, that Follansbee has pumped him, and learned the facts in regard to your will. If so, it wouldn’t surprise me a bit to find that the rascal was plotting in some way, either with or without Stone’s knowledge, to appropriate most, if not all, of your fortune.”
“By Jove! I wonder if you’re right!”
“I feel that I am. It strikes me that Follansbee wouldn’t have taken the risks involved in this thing, especially after having had one brush with me, unless there had been a huge reward in prospect. Half a million or so would tempt almost any man who had any criminal tendencies, you know.”
He paused, gazed into vacancy, and then added slowly: “To tell the truth, I’m not convinced that he would be content with your share of the proceeds from the sale of the mine. When the covetousness of a man like that once gets to working, there’s no telling to what length it may go. I shouldn’t wonder if he aspired to the possession of Stone’s share as well as yours.”
CHAPTER XXXII.
“THE MAN WHO NEVER LETS GO.”
If Winthrop Crawford had been startled before, he was dumfounded now.