"He is raving!" the boy said. "What have I to do with the Tolford estate?"
"There can be no mistake," the other declared, with a long pause between
the words. "Cameron knew who you were, and that is why he took you into
his own home; that is why the settlement of the estate was delayed year
after year. He was waiting for you to come of age."
Jim Scoby was glaring at the speaker as if he thought to finish him by
a look. The night watchman appeared to be waiting for some development
which had not yet been put into words--possibly some revelation regarding
the night of the crime.
Nestor saw the look and understood it. Fearful that Big Bob would not
have the strength to speak the words which appeared to be forming on
his lips, he bent over him and whispered:
"What about that night in the Cameron building? We can work out the
problem of the heirship later on. Tell us what took place in the
Cameron suite on the night you went there last--the night of the crime."
"Let him tell the truth, then!" almost shouted Jim Scoby. "Let him
tell the thing as he found it!"
"So you saw him there that night?" asked Nestor, turning to Scoby.
"Let him answer!" was the rasping reply. "Only make him tell the truth!
He might put the crime on the wrong shoulders."
It was long after midnight now, and the storm had died out. Save for
an occasional dash of rain and an infrequent roll of electricity over
the mountains, the night was normal, and here and there a star crept
out to meet the coming dawn.
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