“For a trifle like that he’ll remember no more,
  In the calm contemplation of favors of yore.”

But, let that pass.  That’s a pretty shrewd scheme Old Simon has on foot just now, isn’t it?  Did he get that up alone or did he have a little legal advice?  I wouldn’t have said that he was quite up to it all, himself.  It’s a big thing.

  “A man may work hard with his hands and his feet
  And find but poor lodging and little to eat. 
  But if he would gather the princeliest gains
  He must smother his conscience and cudgel his brains.”

Sharpman looked sternly across at his visitor.  “Have you any business with me?” he said; “if not, my time is very valuable, and I desire to utilize it.”

“I beg pardon, sir, if I have occupied time that is precious to you.  I had no particular object in calling except to gratify a slight curiosity.  I had a desire to know whether it was really understood between you—­that is whether the old man had enlightened you as to who this boy actually is—­that’s all.”

“There’s no doubt as to who the boy is.  If you’ve come here to give me any information on that point, your visit will have been useless.  His identity is well established.”

“Yes?  Well, now I have the good-fortune to know all about that child, and if you are laboring under the impression that he is a son of Robert Burnham, you are very greatly mistaken.  He is not a Burnham at all.”

Sharpman looked at the young man incredulously.  “You do not expect me to believe that?” he said.  “You certainly do not mean what you are saying?”

There was a noise in the outer room as of some one entering from the street.  Sharpman did not hear it; he was too busily engaged in thinking.  Rhyming Joe gave a quick glance at the room door, which stood slightly ajar, then, turning in his chair to face the lawyer, he said deliberately and with emphasis:—­

“I say the boy Ralph is not Robert Burnham’s son.”

For a moment Sharpman sat quietly staring at his visitor; then, in a voice which betrayed his effort to remain calm, he said:—­

“What right have you to make such a statement as this?  How can you prove it?”

“Well, in the first place I knew the boy’s father, and he was not Robert Burnham, I assure you.”

“Who was he?”

“Simon Craft’s son.”

“Then Ralph is—?”

“Old Simon’s grandchild.”

“How do you happen to know all this?”

“Well, I saw the child frequently before he was taken into the country, and I saw him the night Old Simon brought him back.  He was the same child.  The young fellow and his wife separated, and the old man had to take the baby.  I was on confidential terms with the old fellow at that time, and he told me all about it.”

“Then he probably deceived you.  The evidence concerning the railroad disaster and the rescue of Robert Burnham’s child from the wreck is too well established by the testimony to be upset now by such a story as yours.”