His long, thin hand with the nimble fingers turned the sheets over on the table as though to conclude that phase of the affair.

“The real property,” he continued, “will return nothing; the purchase money was applied on Maxwell’s debts and cannot be followed.  This new claimant, Henderson, who has bought up the outstanding title, will take the land.”

“For some trifling sum,” said my father.

The hunchback nodded slowly, his eyes in a study of my father’s face.

“Doubtless,” he said, “it was not known that Maxwell had only a life estate in the lands, and the remainder to the heirs was likely purchased for some slight amount.  The language of the deeds that Henderson exhibits in his suit shows a transfer of all claim or title, as though he bought a thing which the grantees thought lay with the uncertainties of a decree in chancery.”

“I have seen the deeds,” said my father.

“Then,” said the hunchback, “you know they are valid, and transfer the title.”  He paused.  “I have no doubt that Mr. Henderson assembled these outstanding interests at no great cost, but his conveyances are in form and legal.”

“Everything connected with this affair,” said my father, “is strangely legal!”

The hunchback considered my father through his narrow eyelids.

“It is a strange world,” he said.

“It is,” replied my father.  “It is profoundly, inconceivably strange.”

There was a moment of silence.  The two men regarded each other across the half-length of the room.  The girl sat in the chair.  She had got back her courage.  The big, forceful presence of my father, like the shadow of a great rock, was there behind her.  She had the fine courage of her blood, and, after the first cruel shock of this affair, she faced the tragedies that might lie within it calmly.

Shadows lay along the walls of the great room, along the gilt frames of the portraits, the empty fireplace, the rosewood furniture of ancient make and the oak floor.  Only the hunchback was in the light, behind the four candles on the table.

“It was strange,” continued my father over the long pause, “that your father’s will discovered at his death left his lands to you, and no acre to your brother David.”

“Not strange,” replied the hunchback, “when you consider what my brother David proved to be.  My father knew him.  What was hidden from us, what the world got no hint of, what the man was in the deep and secret places of his heart, my father knew.  Was it strange, then, that he should leave the lands to me?”

“It was a will drawn by an old man in his senility, and under your control.”

“Under my care,” cried the hunchback.  “I will plead guilty, if you like, to that.  I honored my father.  I was beside his bed with loving-kindness, while my brother went about the pleasures of his life.”

“But the testament,” said my father, “was in strange terms.  It bequeathed the lands to you, with no mention of the personal property, as though these lands were all the estate your father had.”