Groll raised a hand in objection.
"I mean, of course," Bofinger added hurriedly, "at the end of the seven years, which the law fixes. I can't get things straight to-night."
"Alonzo," Groll interposed with marked interest, "did you apply for a trust for the widow?"
"No, of course I didn't! That's just what I didn't want to do—then. I wanted to keep her in my hands to make sure of her, until I could marry her! Instead," he added, "I put up for her myself and got into the hands of that robber, Sammamon, doing it!"
Groll made a move as though to enter a question, and then relapsed, motioning him to proceed.
"As soon as the seven years were over and I could get the papers through I married the widow. To-day we went into court to begin proceedings for the possession of the estate—and Fargus turned up from the grave!"
"The devil you say!"
"But that's not all, he got away again," he said shamefacedly, "after we had both lost our heads and recognized him! And I haven't had a sign of him since then, though I've put the whole force on his track."
Groll emitted a whistle, which to him was an enormous concession.
"It was a conspiracy of course," Bofinger said sullenly. "Damn him! He planned it out—must have got on to our game somehow. That meant two thirds swept away."