Читать книгу A Battle for Right; Or, A Clash of Wits онлайн

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Joe Stokes went around to the front of the long, rambling frame structure, and soon was in his own small bedroom on the third-story.

Opening a shabby but strong trunk—it was the sort of iron-bound thing, built to stand rough usage, which is known as a “theatrical trunk”—he took out a newspaper.

The paper was folded small, so that one particular paragraph was turned outward. The paper was old and dirty, bearing marks of much handling. It was not easy to make out the print, but Stokes had read it before, and he managed to read it without trouble:

“If this should meet the eye of H.M., late of Westchester and New York, he is urgently requested to return home. His father is dead, and he is the heir to the estate.”

Joe Stokes sat on the side of his bed and considered: “‘H.M.’ means ‘Howard Milmarsh,’ of course. It must, for see how the description fits him. And there is five thousand dollars reward for anybody who finds the young man, or gives satisfactory proof of his death. ‘Communications should be sent to Johnson, Robertson & Judkins, attorneys at law, Pine Street, New York,’” he read, from the advertisement. “Good!”