of arguing. I don't understand. They did believe
me. Isn't that enough? Why--why----" His face blanched at the thought.
"You don't mean to say that they knew I was an imposter? Knew all along?
You--can't mean that, Jimmie?"

"I may," said Drake shortly. "But, see here, kid, you'll admit it
would be impossible for two people to have that birthmark on them; the
identical mark in the identical spot. You'll admit that. Now, wouldn't
it be impossible?"

"Improbable, but not impossible." Suddenly Garrison had commenced to
breathe heavily, his hands clenching.

Drake cocked his head on one side and closed an eye. He eyed Garrison
steadily. "Kid, it seems to me that you've only been fooling yourself. I
believe you're Major Calvert's nephew. That's straight."

For a long time Garrison stared at him unwinkingly. Then he laughed
wildly.

"Oh, you're good, Jimmie. No, no. Don't tempt me. You forget; forget two
great things. I know my mother's name was Loring, not Calvert. And my
father's name was Garrison, not Dagget."

"Um-m-m," mused Drake, knitting brows. "You don't say? But, see here,
kid, didn't you say that this Dagget's mother was only Major Calvert's
half-sister? How about that, eh? Then her name would be different from
his. How about that? How do you know Loring mightn't fit it? Answer me
that."

"I never thought of that," whispered Garrison. "If you only are right,
Jimmie! If you only are, what it would mean? But my father, my father,"
he cried weakly. "My father. There's no getting around that, Jimmie.
His name was Garrison. My name is Garrison. There's no dodging that. You
can't change that into Dagget."

"How do you know?" argued Drake, slowly, pertinaciously. "This here is
my idea, and I ain't willing to give it up without a fight. How do
you know but your father might have changed his name? I've known less
likelier things to happen. You know he was good blood gone wrong. How do
you know he mightn't have changed it so as not disgrace his family, eh?
Changed it after he married your mother, and she stood for it so as not
to disgrace her family. You were a kid when she died, and you weren't
present, you say. How do you know but she mightn't have wanted to tell
you a whole lot, eh? A whole lot your father wouldn't tell you because
he never cared for you. No, the more I think of it the more I'm certain
that you're Major Calvert's nephew. You're the only logical answer. That
mark of the spur and the other inciden