A few minutes later there came a gentle knock at the street door. Mrs.

Burnham arose and opened it. Lawyer Goodlaw stood on the step. She gave him as courteous greeting as though she had been under the roof of her own mansion.

"I called at your home," he said, as he entered, "and, learning that you had come here, I concluded to follow you."

He went up to the bed and looked at Bachelor Billy, bending over him with kind scrutiny.

"I heard that the shock had affected him seriously," he said, "but he does not appear to be greatly the worse for it; I think he'll come through all right. He's an honest, warm-hearted man. I learned the other day of a proposition that Sharpman made to him before the trial; a tempting one to offer to a poor man, but he rejected it with scorn.

I'll tell you of it sometime; it shows forth the n.o.bility of the man's character."

Goodlaw had crossed the room and had taken a seat by the window.

"But I came to bring you news," he continued. "Our detective returned this morning and presented a full report of his investigation and its result. You will be pleased with it."

"Oh, Mr. Goodlaw! is Ralph--is Ralph--"

She was leaning toward him with clasped hands.

"Ralph is your son," he said.

She bowed her head, and her lips moved in silence. When she looked up, there were tears in her eyes, but her face was radiant with happiness.

"Is there any, any doubt about it now?" she asked.

"None whatever," he replied.

"And what of Rhyming Joe's story?"

"It was a pure falsehood. He does not tire of telling how he swindled the sharpest lawyer in Scranton out of a hundred and fifty dollars, by a plausible lie. He takes much credit to himself for the successful execution of so bold a scheme. But the money got him into trouble. He had too much, he spent it too freely, and, as a consequence, he is serving a short term of imprisonment in the Alleghany county jail for some petty offence."

The tears would keep coming into the lady's eyes; but they were tears of joy, not of sorrow.

"I have the detective's report here in writing," continued Goodlaw; "I will give it to you that you may read it at your leisure. Craft's story was true enough in its material parts, but a gigantic scheme was based on it to rob both you and your son. The odium of that, however, should rest where the expense of the venture rested, on Craft's attorney. It is a matter for sincere congratulation that Ralph's ident.i.ty was not established by them at that time. He has been delivered out of the hands of sharpers, and his property is wholly saved to him.

"I learn that Craft is dying miserably in his wretched lodgings in Philadelphia. With enough of ill-gotten gain to live on comfortably, his miserly instincts are causing him to suffer for the very necessities of life."

"I am sorry for him," said the lady; "very sorry."

"He is not deserving of your sympathy, madam; he treated your son with great cruelty while he had him."

"But he saved Ralph's life."

"That is no doubt true, yet he stole the jewelry from the child's person and kept him only for the sake of obtaining ransom.

"This reminds me that it is also true that he had an interview with your husband on the day of Mr. Burnham's death. What took place between them I cannot ascertain, but I have learned that afterward, while the rescuing party were descending into the mine, your husband recognized Ralph in a way that those who saw and heard him could not at the time understand. Recent events, however, prove beyond a doubt that your husband knew, on the day he died, that this boy was his son."

Mrs. Burnham had been weeping silently.

"You are bringing me too much good and comforting news," she said; "I am not quite able to bear it all, you see."

She was smiling through her tears, but a look of anxiety crossed her face as she continued:--

"I am worried about Ralph. He has not yet come from the breaker."

She glanced up at the little clock on the shelf, and then went to look out from the window.

The man on the bed moved and moaned, and she went back to him.

"Perhaps we had better send some one to look for the boy," said Goodlaw. "I will go myself--"

He was interrupted by the opening of the door. Andy Gilgallon stood on the threshold and looked in with amazement. He had not expected to find the lady and the lawyer there.

"I come to see Bachelor Billy," he said. "Me an' him work togither at the head. He got it worse nor I did. I'm over it, only I'm wake yit.

The likes o' it was niver seen afoor."

He looked curiously in at the bed where his comrade was lying.

"Come in," said Mrs. Burnham, "come in and look at him. He's not conscious yet, but I think he'll soon come to himself."

The man entered the room, walking on the toes of his clumsy shoes.

"Have you seen anything of Ralph since the fire?" continued the lady.

Andy stopped and looked incredulously at his questioner.

"An' have ye not heard?" he asked.

"Heard what, Andy?" she replied, her face paling as she noted the man's strange look.

"Why, they didn't get 'im out," he said. "It's in the mine he is, sure, mum."

She stood for a moment in silence, her face as white as the wall behind her. Then she clasped her hands tightly together and all the muscles of her body grew rigid in the desperate effort to remain calm for the sake of the unconscious man on the bed, for the sake of the lost boy in the mine, for the sake of her own ability to think and to act.

Goodlaw saw the struggle and rose from his chair.

"It's a dangerous imprisonment," he said, "but not, of necessity, a fatal one."

She still stood staring silently at the messenger who had brought to her these dreadful tidings.

"They're a-thryin' to get to the mouth o' the shaft now," said Andy.

"They're a-dhraggin' the timbers away; timbers wid the fire in 'em yit. Ye'd be shtartled to see 'em, mum."

Then the lady spoke.

"I will go to the shaft," she said. Her carriage was already at the door; she started toward it, throwing a light wrap across her arm as she went.

Again the man on the bed moved and moaned.

"Stay with him," she said to Andy, "until I come myself, or send some one to relieve you. See that he has everything he needs. He is my charge."