The Elk Mountain pilot., 1922-05-11

fore. 81 thought it must be that way"
he answered; but you said he had no
children"
"Benjamin Corvet and his wife had
no children"
II thought that was what you
meant" A twinge twisted Alan's
face; he tried to control it but for a
moment could not.
do not misapprehend your father"
Sheriff. said quietly. II cannot pre-
vent what other people may think
when they learn this; but 1 do not
share such thoughts with them. There
is much in this I cannot understand;
but know that 1t is not merely the
result Of what others may think it
Of a wife In more ports than one.'
as you will hear the lakemen put 1t.
What lies under this is some great
misadventure which had changed and
frustrated all your fathers life"
Sheriff. crossed the room and rang
for a servant.
II am going to ask you to be my
guest for short time, Alan," he un-
nounced. II have had your bag
carried to your room; the man will
show you which one 1t Is"
Alan hesitated; he felt that Sheriff.
had not told him all he knew-that
there were some things Sheriff. pur-
posely was Withholding from him; but
he could not force Sheriff. to tell more
than he wished; SO after an instant's
irresolution. he accepted the dismissal.
Sheriff. walked with him to the
door, and gave his directions to the
servant; he stood watching. as Alan
and the man went up the stairs. Then
he went back and seated himself In
the chair Alan had occupied, and sat
with hands grasping the arms Of the
chair while he stared into the fire.
He seemed to be considering and de-
batting something within himself; and
presently he seemed to come to a de-
cIsion. He went up the stairs and on
the second floor he went to a front
room and knocked. Alan's voice told
him to come in. Sheriff. went In and,
when he had made sure that the serv-
ant was not with Alan, he closed the
door carefully behind him.
Then he turned back to Alan, and
for an instant stood indecisive as
though he did not know how to begin
what he wanted to say. AS he glanced
down at a key he took from his pocket,
his indecision seemed to receive d.
rectiOn and inspiration from 1t; and
he put 1t down on Alan's dresser.
i've brought you," he said evenly,
''the key to your house."
Alan gazed at him, bewildered. 1.-THE
key to my house?
"To the house on Astor street."
Sheriff. confirmed. "Your father deed
ed the house and Its furniture and all
its contents to you the day before he
disappeared. l have not the deed
here; 1t came into my hands the day
before yesterday at the same time
might-or might not, for all knew
then-be you. i have the deed down.
town and will give 1t to you. The
house is yours In fee simple, given
you by your father, not beQueathed to
you by him to become your property
after his death. He meant by that, I
think, even more than the mere ac-
knowledgment that he is your father"
Sheriff. walked to the window and
stood as though looking out, but his
eyes were blank with thought.
For almost twenty years." he said,
your father, as have told you, lived
In that house practically alone; dur
Ing all those years a shadow Of some
sort was over him. / don't know at
all, Alan, what that shadow was. But
it is certain that whatever 1t was that
had changed him from the man he
was when l. first knew him eliminated
three days ago when he wrote to you
1t may be that the consequences Of his
writing to you were such that, after
he had sent the letter. he could not
bring himself to face them and so has
merely gone away. In that
case, as we stand here talking, he is
still alive. On the other hand. his
writing You may have precipitated