"It isn't ours," she said. "It is yours. Our father kept it from you all
these years. Do you suppose we will keep it any longer?"
Captain Elisha looked at her determined face; then at the lawyer's--but
he found no help there. His chin thrust forward. He nodded slowly.
"All right! all right!" he said, grimly. "Sylvester, is your shop goin'
to be open to-morrer?"
"Guess not, Captain," was the puzzled reply. "It's Thanksgiving. Why?"
"But Graves'll be to home, won't he? I could find him at his house?"
"I presume you could."
"All right, then! Caroline Warren, you listen to me: I'll give you till
two o'clock to make up your mind to take the money that belongs to you.
If you don't, I swear to the Lord A'mighty I'll take the fust train, go
straight to New York, hunt up Graves, make him go down to the office and
get that note your father made out turnin' all his property over to that
Akrae Company. I'll get that note and I'll burn it up. Then--THEN you'll
have to take the money, because it'll be yours. Every bit of evidence
that'll hold in law is gone, and nobody but you and Steve'll have the
shadow of a claim. I'll do it, so sure as I live! There! now you can
make up your mind."
He turned, strode to the door and out of the room.
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