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it was postmarked from Craterville. Vance, you have been in

Craterville lately!”

 

He seemed to consider.

 

“Could I have told anyone? Could I, possibly? No, Elizabeth, I’ll give

you my word of honor that I’ve never spoken a syllable about that subject

to anyone!”

 

“Ah, but what have you written?”

 

“I’ve never put pen to paper. But—how did it happen?”

 

He had control of himself now. His voice was steadier. He could feel her

recede from her aggressiveness.

 

“It was dated after you left Craterville, of course. And—I can’t stand

imagining that you could be so low. Only, who else would have a motive?”

 

“But how was it done?”

 

“They sent him an article about his father and a picture of Black Jack

that happens to look as much like Terry as two peas.”

 

“Then I have it! If the picture looks like Terry, someone took it for

granted that he’d be interested in the similarity. That’s why it was

sent. Unless they told him that he was really Black Jack’s son. Did the

person who sent the letter do that?”

 

“There was no letter. Only a magazine clipping and the photograph of the

painting.”

 

They were both silent. Plainly she had dismissed all idea of her

brother’s guilt.

 

“But what are we going to do, Elizabeth? And how has he taken it?”

 

“Like poison, Vance. He—he burned all the Colby pictures. Oh, Vance,

twenty-four years of work are thrown away!”

 

“Nonsense! This will all straighten out. I’m glad he’s found out. Sooner

or later he was pretty sure to. Such things will come to light.”

 

“Vance, you’ll help me? You’ll forgive me for accusing you, and you’ll

help me to keep Terry in hand for the next few days? You see, he declared

that he will not be ashamed of his father.”

 

“You can’t blame him for that.”

 

“God knows I blame no one but myself.”

 

“I’ll help you with every ounce of strength in my mind and body, my

dear.”

 

She pressed his hand in silence.

 

“I’m going up to talk with him now,” he said. “I’m going to do what I can

with him. You go in and talk. And don’t let them see that anything is

wrong.”

 

The door had not been locked again. He entered at the call of Terry and

found him leaning over the hearth stirring up the pile of charred paper

to make it burn more freely. A shadow crossed the face of Terry as he saw

his visitor, but he banished it at once and rose to greet him. In his

heart Vance was a little moved. He went straight to the younger man and

took his hand.

 

“Elizabeth has told me,” he said gently, and he looked with a moist eye

into the face of the man who, if his plans worked out, would be either

murderer or murdered before the close of the next day. “I am very sorry,

Terence.”

 

“I thought you came to congratulate me,” said Terry, withdrawing his

hand.

 

“Congratulate you?” echoed Vance, with unaffected astonishment.

 

“For having learned the truth,” said Terry. “Also, for having a father

who was a strong man.”

 

Vance could not resist the opening.

 

“In a way, I suppose he was,” he said dryly. “And if you look at it in

that way, I do congratulate you, Terence!”

 

“You’ve always hated me, Uncle Vance,” Terry declared. “I’ve known it all

these years. And I’ll do without your congratulations.”

 

“You’re wrong, Terry,” said Vance. He kept his voice mild. “You’re very

wrong. But I’m old enough not to take offense at what a young spitfire

says.”

 

“I suppose you are,” retorted Terry, in a tone which implied that he

himself would never reach that age.

 

“And when a few years run by,” went on Vance, “you’ll change your

viewpoint. In the meantime, my boy, let me give you this warning. No

matter what you think about me, it is Elizabeth who counts.”

 

“Thanks. You need have no fear about my attitude to Aunt Elizabeth. You

ought to know that I love her, and respect her.”

 

“Exactly. But you’re headstrong, Terry. Very headstrong. And so is

Elizabeth. Take your own case. She took you into the family for the sake

of a theory. Did you know that?”

 

The boy stiffened. “A theory?”

 

“Quite so. She wished to prove that blood, after all, was more talk than

a vital influence. So she took you in and gave you an imaginary line of

ancestors with which you were entirely contented. But, after all, it has

been twenty-four years of theory rather than twenty-four years of Terry.

You understand?”

 

“It’s a rather nasty thing to hear,” said Terence huskily. “Perhaps

you’re right. I don’t know. Perhaps you’re right.”

 

“And if her theory is proved wrong—look out, Terry! She’ll throw you out

of her life without a second thought.”

 

“Is that a threat?”

 

“My dear boy, not by any means. You think I have hated you? Not at all. I

have simply been indifferent. Now that you are in more or less trouble,

you see that I come to you. And hereafter if there should be a crisis,

you will see who is your true friend. Now, good night!”

 

He had saved his most gracious speech until the very end, and after it he

retired at once to leave Terence with the pleasant memory in his mind.

For he had in his mind the idea of a perfect crime for which he would not

be punished. He would turn Terry into a corpse or a killer, and in either

case the youngster would never dream who had dealt the blow.

 

No wonder, then, as he went downstairs, that he stepped onto the veranda

for a few moments. The moon was just up beyond Mount Discovery; the

valley unfolded like a dream. Never had the estate seemed so charming to

Vance Cornish, for he felt that his hand was closing slowly around his

inheritance.

CHAPTER 10

The sleep of the night seemed to blot out the excitement of the preceding

evening. A bright sun, a cool stir of air, brought in the next morning,

and certainly calamity had never seemed farther from the Cornish ranch

than it did on this day. All through the morning people kept arriving in

ones and twos. Every buckboard on the place was commissioned to haul the

guests around the smooth roads and show them the estate; and those who

preferred were furnished with saddle horses from the stable to keep their

own mounts fresh for their return trip. Vance took charge of the wagon

parties; Terence himself guided the horsemen, and he rode El Sangre, a

flashing streak of blood red.

 

The exercise brought the color to his face; the wind raised his spirits;

and when the gathering at the house to wait for the big dinner began, he

was as gay as any.

 

“That’s the way with young people,” Elizabeth confided to her brother.

“Trouble slips off their minds.”

 

And then the second blow fell, the blow on which Vance had counted for

his great results. No less a person than Sheriff Joe Minter galloped up

and threw his reins before the veranda. He approached Elizabeth with a

high flourish of his hat and a profound bow, for Uncle Joe Minter

affected the mannered courtesy of the “Southern” school. Vance had them

in profile from the side, and his nervous glance flickered from one to

the other. The sheriff was plainly pleased with what he had seen on his

way up Bear Creek. He was also happy to be present at so large a

gathering. But to Elizabeth his coming was like a death. Her brother

could tell the difference between her forced cordiality and the real

thing. She had his horse put up; presented him to the few people whom he

had not met, and then left him posing for the crowd of admirers. Life to

the sheriff was truly a stage. Then Elizabeth went to Vance.

 

“You saw?” she gasped.

 

“Sheriff Minter? What of it? Rather nervy of the old ass to come up here

for the party; he hardly knows us.”

 

“No, no! Not that! But don’t you remember? Don’t you remember what Joe

Minter did?”

 

“Good Lord!” gasped Vance, apparently just recalling. “He killed Black

Jack! And what will Terry do when he finds out?”

 

She grew still whiter, hearing him name her own fear.

 

“They mustn’t meet,” she said desperately. “Vance, if you’re half a man

you’ll find some way of getting that pompous, windy idiot off the place.”

 

“My dear! Do you want me to invite him to leave?”

 

“Something—I don’t care what!”

 

“Neither do I. But I can’t insult the fool. That type resents an insult

with gunplay. We must simply keep them apart. Keep the sheriff from

talking.”

 

“Keep rain from falling!” groaned Elizabeth. “Vance, if you won’t do

anything, I’ll go and tell the sheriff that he must leave!”

 

“You don’t mean it!”

 

“Do you think that I’m going to risk a murder?”

 

“I suppose you’re right,” nodded Vance, changing his tactics with

Machiavellian smoothness. “If Terry saw the man who killed his father,

all his twenty-four years of training would go up in smoke and the blood

of his father would talk in him. There’d be a shooting!”

 

She caught a hand to her throat. “I’m not so sure of that, Vance. I think

he would come through this acid test. But I don’t want to take chances.”

 

“I don’t blame you, Elizabeth,” said her brother heartily. “Neither would

I. But if the sheriff stays here, I feel that I’m going to win the bet

that I made twenty-four years ago. You remember? That Terry would shoot a

man before he was twenty-five?”

 

“Have I ever forgotten?” she said huskily. “Have I ever let it go out of

my mind? But it isn’t the danger of Terry shooting. It’s the danger of

Terry being shot. If he should reach for a gun against the sheriff—that

professional mankiller—Vance, something has to be done!”

 

“Right,” he nodded. “I wouldn’t trust Terry in the face of such a

temptation to violence. Not for a moment!”

 

The natural stubbornness on which he had counted hardened in her face.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“It would be an acid test, Elizabeth. But perhaps now is the time. You’ve

spent twenty-four years training him. If he isn’t what he ought to be

now, he never will be, no doubt.”

 

“It may be that you’re right,” she said gloomily. “Twenty-four years!

Yes, and I’ve filled about half of my time with Terry and his training.

Vance, you are right. If he has the elements of a mankiller in him after

what I’ve done for him, then he’s a hopeless case. The sheriff shall

stay! The sheriff shall stay!”

 

She kept repeating it, as though the repetition of the phrase might bring

her courage. And then she went back among her guests.

 

As for Vance, he remained skillfully in the background that day. It was

peculiarly vital, this day of all days, that he should not be much in

evidence. No one must see in him a controlling influence.

 

In the meantime he watched his sister with a growing admiration and with

a growing concern. Instantly she had a problem on her hands. For the

moment Terence heard that the great sheriff himself had joined the party,

he was filled with happiness. Vance watched them meet with a heart

swelling with happiness and surety of success. Straight through a group

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