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The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

Titel: The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories Kostenlos Bücher Online Lesen
Autoren: Andre Norton
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says so,” he indicated his counselor.
    “Perhaps,” Creighton’s cool tones cut through, “you had better introduce us.” There was a decided change in his manner. Gone was his shy nervousness, his slightly hesitant reserve. It was a keen business man who stood there now.
    Val grinned. “You see before you the family skeleton. May I introduce Mr. Ralestone, who firmly believes that he is the Ralestone of Pirate’s Haven? And three other—shall we say gentlemen—whom I myself have never met formally. Though I did have the pleasure, I believe,” he addressed the Boss directly, “of blackening your eye.”
    “Yeah, I’m Ralestone, and I’m gonna have my rights,” stated the rival briskly.
    “You are a descendant of Roderick Ralestone?” asked LeFleur.
    “Yuh know I am. I got proofs!”
    “The man is a liar,” Creighton said calmly.
    As they stared at him, LeFleur nodded. Val saw an ugly grin begin to curve Red’s thick lips.
    “Yeah? An how do yuh know that, wise guy?” he asked.
    “Because there is only one Roderick Ralestone in this generation and he is standing right there. Permit me to introduce Roderick St. Jean Ralestone!”
    The person he turned to was Jeems!
    CHAPTER XVII
    The Return of Rick Ralestone
    Val ventured to break the sudden silence which resulted from Creighton’s astonishing statement.
    “But how—why—”
    “Yeah,” the rival had collected a measure of his scattered wits, “whatta yuh mean, wise guy?”
    “Just this—” LeFleur drew himself up and faced the invaders sternly—“I have only this very morning deposited with the probate court certain documents making very plain the identity of this young man. Without the shadow of a doubt he is the only living descendant of Roderick Ralestone and his wife, Valerie St. Jean de Roche. I have also sworn out a complaint—”
    Then the Boss took a hand in the game. “The boy’s a minor,” he observed.
    “Through me,” LeFleur returned, “Mr. Rupert Ralestone as nearest of kin has applied for guardianship and there will be no difficulty in the settlement of that matter.”
    “Yeah!” The rival threw his gloves on the terrace and glared not at LeFleur but at his own backing. Having stared at the lawyer of his party until that unfortunate man lost all assurance, he attacked the Boss. “So, wise guy, what now? We ain’t got such a snap as yuh said we were gonna have. We were gonna move right in and take over the joint, were we? We didn’t have anything to worry about. For once we was playin’ with the law. Yeah, we were. We are nothin’ but a gang of mugs. Whatta we gonna do now, huh? You oughta know. Ain’t yuh been doin’ our thinkin’ for us all along? We can’t grab the land and run. We gotta camp right here if we’re gonna git anything. And how are we gonna—”
    “Simpson!” the Boss’s voice was sharp. “Be quiet! You are becoming wearisome. Gentlemen,” he bowed slightly toward LeFleur and Creighton, “one cannot fight bad luck, and this time Fate smiles upon you. It was a good idea if it had worked,” he added musingly. “Young Ralestone seems to have gathered all the aces into his hand. Even,” the drawl became a sneer, “even the guardianship of the missing heir, which will mean a nice sum in the bank for the happy guardian, if all reports are true.”
    “What did you want here?” Val asked for the last time.
    The Boss smiled. “I shall leave that mystery for you to unravel, my wounded hero. It should occupy an idle moment or two. Doubtless all will be made clear in the fullness of time. As for you,” he turned upon LeFleur, “there is no use in your entertaining any foolish idea of calling the police. For our invasion today we have a court order; unhappily it is no longer of use. But we did come here in good faith, as we are prepared to prove. And all other evidence of any lawbreaking upon our part rests, I believe, upon the word of two boys, evidence which might be twisted by a clever lawyer. You may prosecute Simpson for perjury, of course. But I think that Simpson will not be in this part of the country long. Yes,” he looked about him once more at garden and house, “it was a very good idea. A pity it did not work. Well, I must be going before I begin to curse my luck. When a man does that, he sometimes loses it. You must have found yours, I think.”
    “We did,” Val answered, but the Boss did not hear him, for he had turned on his heel and was striding down the

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