“What!”

“Yes,” said Joey with a complacent stroke at his upper lip.  “I have duplicate keys to all your dispatch boxes and filing cabinets.”

“You fiend!”

“I wished to protect you against any temptation toward ingratitude,” explained Joey.  “I have been, on the whole, much entertained by your correspondence.  There was much chaff—­that was to be expected.  But there was also some precious grain which I have garnered with care.  For instance, I have copies of all Zurich’s letters to you.  You have been endeavoring to ruin your cousin, fearing that McClintock might relent and remember Stanley in his will; you have succeeded at last.  Whatever new villainy you have to propose, it now should be easier to name it, since you are relieved from the necessity of beating round the bush.—­You were saying—?”

“Stanley has found a mine, a copper deposit of fabulous richness; so he writes, and so Zurich assures me.  Zurich has had a sample of it assayed; he does not know where the deposit is located, but hopes to find it before Stanley or Stanley’s partner can get secure possession.  Zurich wants me to put up cash to finance the search and the early development.”

“Well?  Where do I come in?  I am no miner, and I have no cash.  I am eating husks.”

“You listen.  Singularly enough, Stanley has sent his partner up here to make me exactly the same proposition.”

“That was Stan’s partner to-day—­that old gray goat?”

“Exactly.  So, you see, I have two chances.”

“I need not ask you,” said Joey with a sage nod, “whether you intend to throw in your lot with the thieves or with the honest men.  You will flock with the thieves.”

“I will,” said Mitchell grimly.  “My cousin had quite supplanted me with my so-called Uncle McClintock.  The old dotard would have left him every cent, except for that calf-love affair of Stan’s with the Selden girl.  Some reflections on the girl’s character had come to McClintock’s ears.”

“Mitchell,” said Joey, “before God, you make me sick!”

“What’s the matter with you now, fool?” demanded Mitchell.  “I never so much as mentioned the girl’s name in McClintock’s hearing.”

“Trust you!” said the clerk.  “You’re a slimy toad, you are.  You’re nauseatin’.  Pah!  Ptth!”

“McClintock repeated these rumors to Stan,” said the lawyer gloatingly.  “Stan called him a liar.  My uncle never liked me.  It is very doubtful if he leaves me more than a moderate bequest, even now.  But I have at least made sure that he leaves nothing to Stan.  And now I shall strip his mine from him and leave him to rot in the penitentiary.  For I always hated him, quite aside from any thought of my uncle’s estate.  I hate him for what he is.  I always wanted to trample his girl-face in the mire.”

“Leave your chicken-curses and come to the point,” urged the junior member of the firm impatiently.  “It is no news to me that your brain is diseased and your heart rotten.  What is it you want me to do?  Calm yourself, you white-livered maniac.  I gather that I am in some way to meddle with this mine.  If I but had your head for my very own along with the sand in my craw, I’d tell you to go to hell.  Having only brains enough to know what I am, I’m cursed by having to depend upon you.  Name your corpse!  Come through!”