“No, those letters were not forgeries,” broke in the old man. “They were really my brother's, but they related to his life with another woman. When their child died, she deserted him for another man. My brother came home broken-hearted, but he finally got over it, and married a nice girl of good family. She was Nelson's mother. In my great trouble, and facing ruin, it struck me that the letters would convince the boy and he would keep quiet and not put in a claim until—until I could see my way out—but now, you say he knows it all.”
“Yes, an' is so happy over it, Mr. Floyd, that instead o' givin' you trouble, he'll throw his arms around you. God bless you, old hoss, you've been denyin' the finest member yore family ever had. I reckon you can turn over to him sufficient proof”—Pole drew himself up with a start—“proof, I mean, that will, you see, sort o' splice in with all I've run up on—proof that he is legally yore nephew.”
“Oh, plenty!” the old man said, almost eagerly; “and I'll get it up at once. I've brought his check back,” he unfolded it and held it in his quivering hands. “I couldn't take money from him after treating him as I have.”
Pole laughed outright. “You keep that check, old man,” he said. “Nelson Floyd will cram it down yore throat ef you won't take it any other way. I tell you he's jest tickled to death. He thinks the world and all of you because you are the only kin he ever laid eyes on. Now, you stay right whar you are an' I'll send 'im to you. He's not fur off.”
Hurrying into the next room, Pole saw Floyd standing at a window looking out into the street, a touch of his old despondency on him. He caught Pole's triumphant smile and stood with lips parted in suspense.
“It's jest as I told you, my boy,” the mountaineer said, with a chuckle. “He's owned up to the whole blasted thing. You've got as good a right to vote in America as any man in it.”
“Good God, Pole, you don't mean—”
“You go in thar an' he'll tell you all about it.” Pole continued to smile.
“You say he has actually confessed of his own accord?” Floyd cried, incredulously.
“Well, I did sorter have to lead 'im along a little,” Pole laughed. “To unlock his jaws, I told 'im me 'n' you already knowed the facts, so you might as well take that stand, give 'im plenty o' rope an' let 'im tell you all about it. But don't be hard on 'im, Nelson; the pore old cuss wanted to do the fair thing but was pressed to the wall by circumstances an' devilish men.”