tten the existence of an
uncle," he responded.

"It is not surprising," said Mr. Grant, genially. "Every one who knew
him in New York nineteen or twenty years ago believed him to be dead.
He left the city when you were a very small lad, going to Australia, I
think. He was off to seek his fortune, and he needed it pretty badly
when he started out. This letter from Mr. Jones comes like a message
from the dead. Were it not that we have known Mr. Jones for a long
time, handling affairs of considerable importance for him, I should
feel inclined to doubt the whole story. It seems that your uncle turned
up in Montana about fifteen years ago and there formed a stanch
friendship with old Swearengen Jones, one of the richest men in the far
West. Sedgwick's will was signed on the day of his death, September
24th, and it was quite natural that Mr. Jones should be named as his
executor. That is how we became interested in the matter, Mr. Brewster."

"I see," said Montgomery, somewhat puzzled. "But why do you say that I
am both fortunate and unfortunate?"

"The situation is so remarkable that you'll consider that a mild way of
putting it when you've heard everything. I think you were told, in our
note of yesterday, that you are the sole heir. Well, it may surprise
you to learn that James Sedgwick died possessed of an estate valued at
almost seven million dollars."

Montgomery Brewster sat like one petrified, staring blankly at the old
lawyer, who could say startling things in a level voice.

"He owned gold mines and ranches in the Northwest and there is no
question as to their value. Mr. Jones, in his letter to us, briefly
outlines the history of James Sedgwick from the time he landed in
Montana. He reached there in 1885 from Australia, and he was worth
thirty or forty thousand dollars at the time. Within five years he was
the owner of a huge ranch, and scarcely had another five years passed
before he was part owner of three rich gold mines. Possessions
accumulated rapidly; everything he touched turned to gold. He was
shrewd, careful, and thrifty, and his money was handled with all the
skill of a Wall Street financier. At the time of his death, in
Portland, he did not owe a dollar in the world. His property is
absolutely unencumbered--safe and sound as a government bond. It's
rather overwhelming, isn't it?" the lawyer concluded, taking note of
Brewster's expression.

"And he--he left everything to me?"

"With a proviso."