"I mean just what I say."
"You said something about a box."
"Yes."
"Well, what about the box?"
"You wish to ask the girl about it?"
"Yes."
"About the box?"
"Yes."
"Young man, you're crazy. I reckon I do not know anything
about any box."
"Oh, yes, you do."
"Which box is it?"
"The box filled with jewels and other rare gems and
valuables."
The man approached close to the detective, and whispered.
"Has my daughter got such a box?"
"Your daughter!" exclaimed the detective.
"My friend, I have a strange story to tell. I suspect that
the girl is my long-lost daughter."
"You're a fraud," was the idea that ran through the
detective's mind. He had observed that the man did not claim
Renie as his daughter until an allusion was made to the box of
jewels.
"If she is your daughter you ought to know all about the box."
"So I do."
"You know all about it, eh?"
"Yes."
"You know where it is?"
"No. It was left with the child."
"Ah, you know that much!"
"If it is my child we are talking about, I know, all about it.
But tell me; is the box in the girl's possession?"
"I reckon we might find it."
"Go and bring the girl to me, and you shall have a hundred
dollars."
"I don't know about that; I am afraid you are not an honest
man."
"What do you mean?"
"My words are plain enough. Tell me your story."
"I will tell it to the girl."
"In my presence?"
"Why should I tell it in your presence? It's none of your
business.
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