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Beach, Rex Ellingwood, 1877-1949

"Heart of the Sunset"

"
"Um-m! That's pretty vague."
"I've studied you a long time, Dave, and with a reason. I've
studied heredity, too, and--you mustn't marry."
Law stirred in his chair and smiled whimsically. "I've done some
studying along those lines, too, and I reckon I know myself pretty
well. I've the usual faults, but--"
Ellsworth interrupted. "You don't know yourself at all, my boy.
There's just the trouble. I'm the only man--living man, that is--
who knows you." For the first time he looked directly at his
caller, and now his lids were lifted until the eyes peered out
bright, hard, and piercing; something in his face startled Dave.
"I was your father's attorney and his friend. I know how he lived
and how he died. I know--what killed him?"
"You mean, don't you, that you know who killed him?"
"I mean just what I say."
Dave leaned forward, studying the speaker curiously. "Well, come
through. What's on your mind?" he demanded, finally.
"The Guadalupes had to kill him, Dave."
"Had to? HAD to? Why?"
"Don't you know? Don't you know anything about your family
history?" Dave shook his head. "Well, then--he was insane,"
"Insane?"
"Yes; violently.


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