“What do you mean by taking possession of this house?” he ripped out. “How dare you break into another man’s place and make yourselves at home here? A lot of tramps and loafers! It’s outrageous!” It was true that, excepting the resplendant Joblots, the Yale men were all attired in flannel shirts and rather worn, rough-looking clothes; but any one in his senses would scarcely mistake them for tramps. Dick arose slowly to his feet, his face calm but his eyes narrowing slightly. “I think that will be about enough,” he said quietly, but with an ominous undercurrent in his voice. “We’re not tramps, and you know it. Neither have we broken into this house. You ought to know that, too. Before you loosen up any more on that tongue of yours, kindly let us know who you might be and what business you have butting in here.” The stranger’s black eyes fairly flashed. “Butting in!” he exploded. “I’ll have you know that I am Andrew Jellison, son of the man who owned this place!” Merriwell eyed him with a new interest. “Ah, indeed,” he remarked pleasantly. “Wouldn’t son-in-law be a little more accurate?” Jellison gave a start and darted a quick look at Dick. “What difference does that make?” he snapped. “Quite a little, I should think,” Merriwell returned calmly. “But you haven’t told us what right you have here.” “Right!” frothed Jellison. “Right! I’m the heir. I own every stick and stone of the place!” “Really?” Dick questioned. “I was under the impression that it was the property of Barry Lawrence, from whom we rented it for a few days.” Jellison’s pompous self-assertion collapsed with the swiftness of a pricked balloon. He had evidently tried to bluff the Yale men, having no idea that they knew the truth, and for a moment he was nonplused. His eyes shifted about the room and he moistened his dry lips with an equally dry tongue. “Impossible!” he muttered at length. “There wasn’t any will. I am the heir-at-law.” Dick smiled. “I think you have been misinformed,” he said significantly. “There was a will, which left everything to Barry Lawrence, Mr. Hickey’s nephew.” Jellison dropped into a chair, and, taking out his handkerchief, mopped his forehead. “You’ll excuse my somewhat hasty words, I’m sure,” he said presently. “I didn’t understand what you were doing here, or I shouldn’t have spoken as I did. This has been a great shock!” Dick dropped back into his chair without replying. He wondered whether the shock had been as great as Jellison would have it appear. He had a shrewd suspicion that the man was acting. It seemed incredible that he could really be ignorant of the fact that Hickey had cut him off without a cent and that everything had been left to Lawrence. What was Jellison doing here, anyway? What object had he in appearing at nine o’clock at night, alone, at a probably deserted farmhouse? Such conduct was extraordinary, to say the least. “You—er—say you have rented the place for a few days?” Jellison inquired at that moment.