I thought that
child of Burnham's was dead. Do you mean to say that the boy is still
living?"
"Yes; that's it. He wasn't even hurt. Of course he's alive. I know
it."
"Can you prove it?"
"Certainly!"
The lawyer gazed at his visitor, apparently in doubt as to the man's
veracity or sanity, and again there was silence.
Finally Craft spoke. Another thought had come to him.
"The boy's mother; she's living, ain't she?"
"Burnham's widow? Yes; she's living."
"Then I'll go to her! I'll make a new contract with her. The money'll
be hers, now. I'll raise on my price! She'll pay it. I'll warrant
she'll pay it! May be it's lucky for me, after all, that I've got her
to deal with instead of her husband!"
Even Sharpman was amazed and disgusted at this exhibition of cruel
greed in the face of death.
"That's it!" continued the old man in an exulting tone; "that's the
plan. I'll go to her. I'll get my money--I'll get it in spite of
death!"
He rose from his chair, and grasped his cane to go, but the excitement
had brought on a severe fit of coughing, and he was obliged to resume
his seat until it was over.
This delay gave Sharpman time to think.
"Wait!" he said, when the old man had finally recovered; "wait a
little. I think I have a plan in mind that is better than yours--one
that will bring you in more cash."
"More cash?" Craft was quiet and attentive in a moment. The word
"cash" had a magical influence over him.
Sharpman arose, closed the door between the two rooms tightly, and
locked it.
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