Chapter XXI. A Denial

Robert left the superintendent's office in deep thought. He understood very well that it would be impossible to enforce his claim without more satisfactory testimony than his father's letter. If any one had been cognizant of the transaction between Mr. Davis and his father it would have helped matters, but no one, so far as he knew, was even aware that his father had possessed so large a sum as five thousand dollars. Had Captain Rushton inclosed the receipt, that would have been sufficient, but it had probably gone to the bottom with him. But, after all, was it certain that his father was dead? It was not certain, but our hero was forced to admit that the chances of his father's being alive were extremely slender.

Finding himself utterly at a loss, he resolved to call upon his firm friend, Squire Paine, the lawyer. Going to his office, he was fortunate enough to find him in, and unengaged.

"Good-morning, Robert," said the lawyer, pleasantly.

"Good-morning, sir. You find me a frequent visitor."

"Always welcome," was the pleasant reply. "You know I am your banker, and it is only natural for you to call upon me."

"Yes, sir," said Robert, smiling; "but it is on different business that I have come to consult you this morning."

"Go on. I will give you the best advice in my power."

The lawyer listened with surprise to the story Robert had to tell.

"This is certainly a strange tale," he said, after a pause.

"But a true one," said Robert, hastily.

"I do not question that. It affords another illustration of the old saying that truth is stranger than fiction. That a letter committed to the deep so many thousand miles away should have finally reached its destination is very remarkable, I may say Providential."

"Do you think there is any chance of my father being yet alive?"

"There is a bare chance, but I cannot encourage you to place much reliance upon it."

"If he had been picked up by any vessel I suppose he would have written."

"You would doubtless have seen him at home before this time in that case. Still there might be circumstances," added the lawyer, slowly, "that would prevent his communicating with friends at home. For instance, his boat might have drifted to some uninhabited island out of the course of ordinary navigation. I don't say it is at all probable, but there is such a probability."

"Is there any chance of making Mr. Davis return the money my father deposited with him?"

"There again there are difficulties. He may demand the return of his receipt, or he may continue to deny the trust altogether."

"Won't the letter prove anything?"

"It may produce a general