"Maybe he's dead now and it's too late," cried Gyp, who thought the whole thing full of intensely interesting possibilities. "Uncle Peter cannot defend himself, now, Graham, so let us not pass judgment upon what he has done. And I don't suppose I can act on this matter until your father comes home." "Oh, John, I know he will want to carry out his Uncle Peter's wish! You need not wait; too much time has been lost already," urged Mrs. Westley. Graham was standing in front of the fire, his back to the blaze. It struck Uncle Johnny and his mother both that there was a new manliness in the slim, straight figure. "_I_ want to help find him. It's when you know about such tricks and cheating and--and injustice that you hate this trying to make money. I think things ought to be divided up in this world and every fellow given an equal chance." John Westley laid his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Real justice is the hardest thing to find in this world, sonny. But keep the thought of it always in your mind--and look out for the rights of the other fellow, then you'll never make the mistakes Uncle Peter did." "Poor old man, all he cared about in the world was making money, and then in his old age it gave him no joy--only torment. And he'd killed everything else in him that might have brought him a little happiness! I'm glad you and Robert aren't like him," Mrs. Westley added. "I am, too," cried Gyp, so fervently that everyone laughed. "How do you find people?" put in Tibby, who was trying very hard to understand what it was all about. "It _will_ be somewhat like the needle in the hay-stack. Boston is a big place--and a lot can happen in--let me see, that must have been fifteen years ago." "Will you hire detectives?" Gyp was quivering with the desire to help hunt down the mysterious Craig Winton. "I don't want to; I've always had a sort of distrust of detectives and yet we may have to. We have so little to start on. I'll get Stevens and Murray together to-morrow--perhaps they can tell me more about the buying of the patent. And I'll have Watkins recommend some reliable Boston attorney." Uncle John's voice sounded as though he meant business. Isobel had said nothing during the little family council. She suddenly lifted her head, her eyes dark with disapproval. "Won't giving this person all that money make _us_ poor?" Something in her tone sent a little shock through the others. "My dear----" protested her mother. "Oh, _you'd_ go on cheating him--just like Uncle Peter! That's like you--just think about yourself," accused Graham, disgustedly. "Do you _want_ tainted money?" cried Gyp grandly.