"He asked me the same thing about you. Well, I haven't seen much of
Dave since he grew up, he's such a roamer."
"He said his parents were murdered by the Guadalupes."
The Judge looked up quickly; a queer, startled expression flitted over
his face. "Dave said that? He said both of them were killed?"
"Yes. Isn't it true?"
"Oh, Dave wouldn't lie. It happened a good many years ago, and
certainly they both met a violent end. I was instrumental in saving
what property Frank Law left, but it didn't last Dave very long. He's
right careless in money matters. Dave's a fine fellow in some
ways--most ways, I believe, but--" The Judge lost himself in frowning
meditation.
"I have never known you to damn a friend or a client with such faint
praise," said Alaire.
"Oh, I don't mean it that way. I'm almost like one of Dave's kin, and
I've been keenly interested in watching his traits develop. I'm
interested in heredity. I've watched it in Ed's case, for instance. If
you know the parents it's easy to read their children." Again he lapsed
into silence, nodding to himself. "Yes, Nature mixes her prescriptions
like any druggist. I'm glad you and Ed--have no babies."
Alaire murmured something unintelligible.
"And yet," the lawyer continued, "many people are cursed with an
inheritance as bad, or worse, than Ed's."
"What has that to do with Mr. Law?"
"Dave? Oh, nothing in particular. I was just--moralizing. It's a
privilege of age, my dear."