ber your Uncle John?"
"No. I was too young when he died to remember him."
"It was he that was wealthy, not I. I had a comparatively small
interest in the firm, but as he died childless I succeeded naturally to
his property. That made me rich, and ever since I have been possessed
of large means. But if he had left a son, all this would have been
changed. The son would have inherited the bulk of his property, and I
should have received an inconsiderable legacy. Do you follow me?"
"Yes, sir, but I don't see the force of it. My uncle left no son."
"Gilbert Grey, as he calls himself, contends that he did leave a son,
and he claims to be that son."
"But it is a lie," said Jasper, hastily.
"Of course, but you understand the motive."
"That he may deprive us of the property."
"Precisely."
"Why don't you kick him out of the house?" exclaimed Jasper,
indignantly. "Of course he is an impostor, and deserves no better
treatment."
"I will tell you why. He is very artful, and has forged a pretended
confession, and attached to it the signature of an old clerk of our
house, who disappeared about the time my nephew was lost, asserting his
identity with the lost boy, and charging that I employed him to kidnap
the boy, in order that I might succeed to the property."
Jasper fixed a fierce glance upon his father. He had never loved or
respected him particularly, and a suspicion entered his mind that the
charge might be a true one. But, if admitted, it would reduce him to
comparative poverty, and he had no intention of suffering his suspicion
to appear. In this matter, at least, he and his father were in entire
agreement.
"But, father," he said, after a pause, "can't you prove that it is a
forgery?"
"Possibly, but I don't want the matter to come to trial. There are
always people, who out of sentimental sympathy would be led to suspect
that the rich uncle was guilty of defrauding the poor boy."
"When did you first hear of his claim, father?"
"A short time since, during my recent visit to Cincinnati. I defied him
then, and left the city without letting him know my address. But he is
evidently shrewd and determined, and he has managed, in some way which
I cannot fathom, to discover it. He has followed me up, and here he
is."
"What do you mean to do?"
"I find force won't do. He is full of courage, pluck, and
determination, and so is an enemy to be dreaded. I am going to try an
opposite course."
"You are n
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