"By thunder," exploded Murgatroyd, "I'll not stand for this! Give that up, King, or I'll have the law on you."
"The law won't touch me," said Matt. "This paper was prepared by you for Mrs. Traquair to sign; as a friend of Mrs. Traquair's I have the right to look the trap over before you spring it."
"Well, of all the impudence—— Say, I wouldn't let you fly that aëroplane for me if it never got a try-out at Fort Totten. I'll be even with you for this, my lad! I'll—I'll——"
Murgatroyd choked up with wrath and could not finish. Meanwhile, Matt had glanced at the paper. One glance was sufficient.
"This, Mrs. Traquair," said he, "is a document conveying all your right, title, and interest in your late husband's aëronautical inventions, and in the aëroplane now in the post trader's store at Fort Totten, to Amos Murgatroyd. And the consideration is three hundred dollars. You will not sign it, of course?"
"But what am I to do?" faltered the woman hopelessly.
"Whatever you do, Mrs. Traquair, you must not sign away your interest in what may perhaps prove valuable property, for such a small sum."
Then Matt, with steady hands, ripped the document into ribbons.
If Murgatroyd had been angry before, he was fairly beside himself now.
"You—you young scoundrel," he cried, shaking his fist, "I'll teach you to meddle in my business affairs. This isn't the last of this, not by a long chalk. I'll have this woman and her brats out in the street before night. I'll——"