"I had three houses—one of those houses is, I believe, that which has been rented from you, by Miss Kennedy. I do not know yet where the other two are; but I shall find out."
"You are on a wrong tack," said his uncle; "now I know why you wouldn't go away. You came here to ferret and fish, did you? You thought you were entitled to property, did you? Ho!—you're a nice sort o' chap to have house property, ain't you? Ha! ho!" But his laughter was not mirthful.
"Let me point out," Harry went gravely on, "what it is you have done. The child whom you kept for a year or two was heir to a small estate, bringing in, I suppose, about eighty or a hundred pounds a year. We will say that you were entitled to keep that money in return for his support; but when that child was carried away and adopted you said nothing about the property. You kept it for yourself, and you have received the rents year after year, as if the house belonged to you. Shall I go on, and tell you what judges and lawyers and police people call this sort of conduct?"
"Where's your proofs?" asked the other—his face betraying his emotion. "Where's your proofs?"
"I have none yet—I am going to search for those proofs."
"You can't find them—there are none. Now, young man, you have had your say, and you can go. Do you hear? You can go."
"You deny, then, that the houses were mine?"
"If you'd come to me meek and lowly—as is your humble station in life—I would ha' told you the history of those houses. Yes, your mother had them, same as her brothers and her sister. Where are they now? I've got 'em all—I've got 'em all. How did I get 'em? By lawful and honorable purchase—I bought 'em. Do you want proofs? You shan't have any proofs. If you'd behaved humble you should ha' seen those proofs. Now you may go away and do your worst. Do you hear? You may do your worst."
He shook his fist in Harry's face. His words were brave, but his voice was shaky and his lips were trembling.