"Further, your record doesn't state the names of this Emily Leonard's
parents."
Hapgood tossed back the unruly lock of hair.
"I ought to have gone back one step farther," he conceded. "I might have
known you'd ask that."
"Naturally."
"I'll send to the county clerk and get that straightened out."
"It might be well," advised Mr. Clark mildly. "One other point prevents
my acceptance of these documents as proof that your niece belongs to our
family. Neither the investigator whom we had working on the case nor my
nephew have ever told us the date of birth of our Emily Leonard. We can,
of course, obtain that, if it is not already in my nephew's possession,
but without it we can't be sure that our cousin was of marriageable age
on December fifteenth, 1860."
It was Mr. Clark's turn to rub his hands together complacently as
Hapgood looked more and more discomfited.
"In fact, my dear sir," Mr. Clark continued, "you have proved nothing
except that some Emily Leonard married a man named Smith on the date
named."
He tapped the papers gently with a thin forefinger and returned them to
their owner, who began to bluster.
"I might have known you'd put up a kick," he exclaimed.
"I live, when I'm at home, in Arkansas," replied Mr. Clark softly, "and
Arkansas is so near Missouri that I have come to belong to the
brotherhood who 'have to be shown.
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