“You don't mean to say that he is going to try and ignore us? Do you mean to tell me he has no explanation to offer?” said Wade vehemently.
“I don't think you'll ever get a word out of him,” said Stephen.
“You don't! Oh, yes, I will,” said Wade easily. “I bet I get a good many words out of him before I'm done with him. He can't ignore me, for I've no notion of being ignored! A dignified silence won't work with me. But it's pretty clear that the reason he wants to keep quiet is because there is nothing he can say. You don't want to think it, and maybe you can't—but it's as clear a case of fraud as one would want to see. Now, I know Jake Benson, and if there was anything he could say, he'd say it fast enough; he'd never run the risk of his coming to trial, not for one minute he wouldn't! You are sure he feels all right toward you?” he gazed into his friend's face with a comprehensive eye.
“No, he doesn't blame me,” Stephen assured him wearily.
“I suppose it's me,” said Wade grinning. It pleased his vanity to realize that he had suddenly become of importance to Benson. It raised him pleasantly in his own estimation.
“Yes, it's you. He blames you altogether.”
“But it's quite wrong of him to have any personal feeling—I haven't, you know. I suppose, though, he's had that money so long he thinks he ought to be let alone to enjoy it for the rest of his days. Well, I'm sorry for the old gentleman; it's hard lines; but don't it beat all how these things round in on a fellow? You think the skeleton's laid away, and then, by golly! it takes on flesh and stalks out of your closet with the bloom of youth on its cheeks, and ready to play hell with you!”
Stephen stared gloomily at him.
“What are you going to do next?” he asked at last.
“Why, get the thing to trial as soon as I can,” said Wade briskly. “Look here, I've got the complete record of the transaction, not a paper missing. You may as well look it over; it shows up strong.'