"Why not? What is to hinder me, I should like to know?"

"It wouldn't be good policy for you to do it."

"Why not, you impudent young rascal?"

"Because I should let the relationship be known."

"Well?"

"And why is it that you deny it?"

"Well," said Mr. Grey, his attention caught, "why do I deny it?"

"Because you are in possession of my father's property, which, of
right, belongs to me!" said Gilbert, firmly, looking his uncle in the
eyes. "It is your interest to deny the relationship."

James Grey saw that his long injustice had come home to him at last.
How could this stripling have learned what he had taken such pains to
conceal? What was he to do? Was he to admit the boy's claims, and
surrender the estate? He could not make up his mind to do it. He must
stave off the attack, if he could.

"This is a ridiculous story," he said. "Somebody has been making a fool
of you."

"Didn't you have an older brother, named John?"

"Yes," Mr. Grey admitted, unwillingly.

"Did he not have a son?"

"Yes; but, as I told you, he died."

"He only disappeared. He was carried away, for what object, you can
tell."

"You are dealing in mysteries. I don't know what you are talking
about." Mr. Grey said this, but his troubled look showed that he did
not feel as unconcerned as he pretended.

Gilbert continued:

"The man who carried me off was a clerk in your employ. His name was
Jacob Morton."

"So he took you to Australia, did he? That's a likely story."

"Yes. He was supplied with money by you for the purpose. But he did not
like Australia. After awhile he returned to New York, and there I was
brought up in the streets, suffering every privation, while you were
enjoying the property my father left."

"Well, have you got anything more to say? The tale does great credit to
your invention."

"Three years ago--a little more, perhaps--I saw you in New York. I
brushed your boots on the steps of the Astor House."

"Better and better. I am expected to recognize a New York bootblack as
my nephew!"

"It was your fault that I was reduced to be a bootblack."

"How happens it that you are not in the same line of business now?
Perhaps you are."

"Jacob died and left me a few dollars, with which I came out West.
Before he died he gave me a written paper, in which he revealed all the
plot into which he entered with you."

"He gave you a paper, did he?"

"Yes. From it I learned that I was born in Cincinnati, and I ex