"Wal, go on!" he said gruffly.
I crossed my legs comfortably, and leaned back in the chair, quite
conscious of thus adding to his irritation. If I could only anger the
fellow sufficiently he might blurt out something of value. Anyhow, my
best card was cool indifference.
"There is not much to say," I replied deliberately. "I 'll answer your
questions so far as I think best, and then I 'll ask a few of you. The
lady upstairs is Viola Henley, the wife of Philip Henley. She has come
down here to take legal possession of this property. That is the
situation in a nutshell. I am merely accompanying her to make sure
that she gets a square deal."
His jaw sagged, and his eyes wandered.
"Oh, hell," he managed to articulate. "What is your real game?"
"Exactly as I have stated it, Coombs. To the best of my knowledge
Philip Henley is dead--at least he has disappeared--and his widow is
the rightful heir to this estate."
"Wal, I reckon he ain't dead--not by a jugful."
I felt the hot blood pump in my veins. Did the man know this to be
true, or was he merely making the claim for effect?
"That, of course, remains to be proven," I returned smilingly.
"Oh, does it, now! So does this yer wife business, to my thinkin'.
Wal, it won't take long ter settle the matter, believe me.
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