I went out there with him. He'd told this much truth at least; the woman lay there dead. It was easy to see what kind of woman she had been."
Peewee's pulse-beat had quickened. It must be the woman who had told him she was his mother that the man was talking about.
The other man said something not audible; then the first man spoke again.
"No, he'd come to me because I was the head of the family and the company, but his insinuations referred to you."
"You think they're true?"
"I'm asking you, brother."
"My God, Jeffrey! I'd be crazy to try to defend myself against you, when I need your help!"
Peewee caught eagerly at the name. That deeper-voiced man—he knew who he must be. That one whose death notice the truck driver had shown him had been Jeffrey Markyn, Second. This one, in the queer way this family called itself, must be Jeffrey Markyn, Third. He was at least, so he had just said—this Wal-
