"You are a queer man, Mr. Merrick," he said, quietly. "I can only excuse
your insults on the grounds of ignorance, or the fact that you have been
misinformed. Here is the newspaper report of the Almaquo fire, which I
showed my friends the night of Captain Wegg's sudden death." He took a
clipping from a drawer of the desk and handed it to Uncle John, who read
it carefully.
"As a matter of fact," continued West, "you are not cutting that portion
of the Almaquo tract which this fire refers to, and which Thompson and
Wegg were interested in, but the north half of the tract, which they had
never acquired any title to."
"I suppose the stock will show that," suggested Mr. Merrick.
"Of course, sir."
"I will look it up."
West smiled.
"You will have some trouble doing that," he said.
"Why?"
"Wegg and Thompson had transferred their entire stock to me before one
died and the other went mad," was the quiet reply.
"Oh, I see." The lie was so evident that Uncle John did not try to
refute it.
"I am rather busy, Mr. Merrick. Anything more, sir?"
"Not today. Bye and bye, Mr. West."
He marched out again and climbed into his buggy to drive home. The
interview with Bob West had made him uneasy, for the merchant's cold,
crafty nature rendered him an opponent who would stick at nothing to
protect his ill-gotten gains.
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