“But, madam, I am telling to you only what this man has told to me.  I have no means of proving his veracity, and his appearance, as I have said, is against him.  I have agreed to assist him only in case he is able to establish, beyond question, the boy’s identity.  Thus far his statements have not been wholly satisfactory.”

Mrs. Burnham had grown more calm.  The startling suddenness of the proposition that Ralph was living had, for the time being, overmastered her.  Now she sank back into her chair, with pale face, controlling her emotion with an effort, trying to give way to reason.

“What does he say?” she asked.  “What is this old man’s story?”

Sharpman repeated, in substance, old Simon’s account of the rescue, giving to it, however, an air of lightness and improbability that it had not had before.

“It is possible,” he added, “that the evidence you have of the child’s death is sufficient to refute this man’s story completely.  On what facts do you rest your belief, if I am at liberty to ask?”

“The proofs,” she replied, “have seemed to us to be abundant.  Neither Mr. Burnham nor myself were in a condition to make personal investigation until some days had elapsed from the time of the accident, and then the wreck had been cleared away.  But we learned beyond doubt that there was but one other child in the car, a bright, pretty boy of Ralph’s age, travelling with his grandfather, and that this child was saved.  No one had seen Ralph after the crash; no article of clothing that he wore has ever been found; there were only a few trinkets, fireproof, that he carried in the pocket of his skirt, discovered in the ashes of the wreck.”

The lady put her hands to her eyes as if to shut out the memory of some dread sight.

“And I presume you made diligent inquiry afterward?” questioned the lawyer.

“Oh, yes! of the most searching nature, but no trace could be found of our child’s existence.  We came to the firm belief, long ago, that he died that night.  The most that we have dared to hope is that his sufferings were not great nor prolonged.”

“It seems incredible,” said Sharpman, “that the child could have been saved and cared for, without your knowledge, through so long a period.  But the man appears to be in earnest, his story is a straightforward one, and I feel it to be my duty to examine into it.  Of course, his object is to get gain.  He wants compensation for his services in the matter of rescuing and caring for the child.  He seems also to be very desirous that the boy’s rights should be established and maintained, and has asked me to take the matter in hand in that respect as well.  Are you prepared to say, definitely, that no evidence would induce you to believe your child to be living?”

“Oh, no! not that.  But I should want something very strong in the way of proof.  Let this man come and relate his story to me.  If it is false, I think I should be able to detect it.”