"You will know when I get ready to tell you, not before."
"Perhaps you are mistaken," said I. "And another thing, Uncle Felix, how is it that you were appointed my guardian?"
At these words I fancied my uncle turned pale. He sprang towards me, then stopped short.
"What do you mean by that question?" he demanded.
"I mean why were you made my guardian when my father and you were not on good terms?"
"Pooh, that quarrel was of no consequence," was the lofty reply. "Your father could not find a better person in which to trust his son's care."
I had my own opinion on that point, but did not find it fit to say so. Then I put in what I thought was a master stroke.
"I thought Mr. Banker was to be my guardian."
At these words Mr. Stillwell turned even paler than before, and his hand trembled as he pointed his long finger at me in a threatening manner.
"You think too much!" he growled.
"Are you going to answer that question?"
"What put it into your head?"
"Never mind."
"Has John Banker been writing to you about it?"
In spite of his effort to ask the question uncon-
