“I’ll be lookin’ afther the supper, thin,” said Mrs. Maloney, “the lad’ll be hungry whin he comes,” and she left the room.

Bachelor Billy lay very quiet, as if asleep, breathing regularly, his face somewhat pale and his lips blue, but he had not the appearance of one who is in danger.

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 nobility 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 identity 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.