swear to the facts you gave us."

"I'll do that willin' enough, sir."

They brought him before a notary public, and having written out his
statement and secured his signature and oath, they let him go, after
learning that Johnson did not return to his house since the body was
found.

The Bradys were delighted.

When they reached the street, Harry cried:

"That Mason was a clever schemer. But we've foiled his plan to palm off
a stranger's body for that of the missing broker. We must let Lizzie
Dalton know how she was duped. There's every possibility yet that her
father is still alive. With this doubt pending, the will need not be
probated yet."

"Steps have already been begun to test the signature," said Old King
Brady. "By this afternoon we shall know positively whether that
signature to the will is a forgery or not."

"And if it is?"

"We'll have to run down Mason and make him pay the penalty of his
crime," replied the veteran detective, decisively.

They then went up to the Dalton house.

Lizzie was at home and heard what Kelly confessed.

Her joy and astonishment knew no bounds, and she cried:

"Then there is some probability that my poor father yet lives!"

"Yes, indeed," replied Harry, "and it is our belief that he is still
concealed down South in the big swamp on his estate. We are going back
there to investigate the matter."

"And I sincerely hope you will be successful in finding him," fervently
replied the girl. "In fact, I am so anxious about the matter that I
shall go down to Swamp Angel myself as soon as I can get my affairs so
regulated here that I can go away."

"Then we shall meet there."

"I hope so. And if your work is going to keep you in the vicinity of
our place, I want you to make your headquarters there."

They thanked her for the invitation and after some further talk they
left the house and headed for the writing-expert's office.

The professor was located on Broadway near Chambers street.

He was in when they called.

They had furnished him with several check-vouchers, and other specimens
of Mr. Dalton's handwriting procured at his office.

He greeted them warmly and asked, with a smile:

"I suppose you are curious to learn the result of my labors?"

"We are," assented Old King Brady, taking a chew of tobacco.

"I've finished my investigations."

"And what is the result?"

"That signature is a rank forgery."

"A poor one?"

"Very."

"Let us see."

"I'll