"For five million dollars?" cried Spencer. "Don't make me laugh! If
they want a REAL novelist for a son they can adopt me!"

I replied with dignity that I would not disgrace the memory of my
parents.

"You have disgraced them!" retorted Spencer, "with your Musketeer
novels for infants. You need money. To get it you may be tempted to
write more novels. Here's your chance! Stop robbing the public, and
lead an honest life. Think of all the money you could give to the
poor, think of all the money you and I could lose at Monte Carlo!"

When he found I would not charter an auto-mobile and at once pursue
the Farrells he changed his tactics. If I would not go to Cape May,
then, he begged, I would go to Fairharbor. He asked that I would,
at least, find out what I was refusing. Before making their offer,
for six months, the Farrells had had me "looked up, " but, without
knowing anything of them, after a talk of ten minutes I had turned
them down. "Was that," he asked, "intelligent? Was it fair to the
Farrells?" He continued to tempt me.

"They told you to think it over," he persisted. "Very well, then,
think it over at Fairharbor! For the next three weeks the Farrells
will be at Cape May. The coast is clear. Go to Fairharbor as
somebody else and be your own detective. Find out if what they tell
you is true. Get inside information. Get inside Harbor Castle.
Count the eighteen bedrooms and try the beds. Never mind the art
gallery, but make sure there is a wine cellar.