lawyers.

"The truth is, Mr. Grant, I'd completely forgotten the existence
of an uncle," he responded.

"It is not surprising," said Mr. Grant, genially. "Every one who
knew him in New York nineteen or twenty years ago believed him to
be dead. He left the city when you were a very small lad, going to
Australia, I think. He was off to seek his fortune, and he needed
it pretty badly when he started out. This letter from Mr. Jones
comes like a message from the dead. Were it not that we have known
Mr. Jones for a long time, handling affairs of considerable
importance for him, I should feel inclined to doubt the whole
story. It seems that your uncle turned up in Montana about fifteen
years ago and there formed a stanch friendship with old Swearengen
Jones, one of the richest men in the far West. Sedgwick's will was
signed on the day of his death, September 24th, and it was quite
natural that Mr. Jones should be named as his executor. That is
how we became interested in the matter, Mr. Brewster."

"I see," said Montgomery, somewhat puzzled. "But why do you say
that I am both fortunate and unfortunate?"

"The situation is so remarkable that you'll consider that a mild
way of putting it when you've heard everything. I think you were
told, in our note of yesterday, that you are the sole heir. Well,
it may surprise you to learn that James Sedgwick died possessed of
an estate valued at almost seven million dollars."

Montgomery Brewster sat like one petrified, staring blankly at the