"Miss Morissey, the aunt," Bofinger said, stopping short, "has had a small legacy left her and is going to settle her affairs."
"Then what she told me was true after all!" Fargus exclaimed, without perceiving how clearly he portrayed his real sentiments.
"Now, of course," Bofinger said glibly, stealing a glance at his dejected client. "I shall at once take up the threads and push my investigation rapidly."
"Mr. Bofinger," Fargus said, coming out of his abstraction, "that's enough. Don't do anything more. I've got now all I wanted to know."
"Then you are satisfied?" Bofinger replied in feigned astonishment.
"Yes." He walked a while, studying the sidewalk, and then asked slowly: "Mr. Bofinger, you see all kinds of people—you ought to be a judge. I'm going to put a question to you. Would you, if you were me, in my position, adopt Miss Vaughn?"
"Really, my dear sir," Bofinger said carefully. "I can't take the responsibility of answering that."
"Is she the right sort—steady and dependable?"
"Oh, if you mean is she worthy of being adopted—certainly yes! But," he added with a show of frankness, "if you do want my opinion, I think the young lady is too independent a character to permit it."
Fargus hesitated a moment, with an impulse to confidences, then, retreating awkwardly, he began to draw out his pocketbook, saying: