“To the best of my recollection,” said the witness, “they are the same.  I noticed the cloak particularly on account of the hole burned out of the front of it.  I considered it an indication of a very narrow escape.”

The witness was turned over to the defence for cross-examination.

“No questions,” said Goodlaw, shortly, gathering up his papers as if his defeat was already an accomplished fact.

“Mr. Craft,” said Sharpman, “stand up right where you are.  I want to ask you one question.  Did the child whom you rescued from the wreck have on, when you found him, this cap, cloak, and locket?”

“He did.”

“And is the child whom you rescued that night from the burning car this boy who is sitting beside you here to-day?”

“They are one and the same.”

Mrs. Burnham threw back her veil, looked steadily across at Ralph, then started to her feet, and moved slightly toward him as if to clasp him in her arms.  For a moment it seemed as though there was to be a scene.  The people in the audience bent forward eagerly to look into the bar, those in the rear of the room rising to their feet.

The noise seemed to startle her, and she sank back into her chair and sat there white and motionless during the remainder of the session.

Sharpman arose.  “I believe that is our case,” he said.

“Then you rest here?” asked the judge.

“We rest.”

His Honor continued:  “It is now adjourning time and Saturday night.  I think it would be impossible to conclude this case, even by holding an evening session; but perhaps we can get through with the testimony so that witnesses may be excused.  What do you say, Mr. Goodlaw?”

Goodlaw arose.  “It may have been apparent to the court,” he said, “that the only effort being put forth by the defence in this case is an effort to learn as much of the truth as possible.  We have called no witnesses to contradict the testimony offered, and we expect to call none.  But, lest something should occur of which we might wish to take advantage, we ask that the evidence be not closed until the meeting of court on Monday next.”

“Is that agreeable to you, Mr. Sharpman?” inquired the judge.

“Perfectly,” replied that lawyer, his face beaming with good nature.  He knew that Goodlaw had given up the case and that his path was now clear.

“Then, crier,” said the judge, “you may adjourn the court until Monday next, at two o’clock in the afternoon.”

CHAPTER XII.

AT THE GATES OF PARADISE.

The result of the trial seemed to be a foregone conclusion.  Every one said there was no doubt, now, that Ralph was really Robert Burnham’s son.  People even wondered why Mrs. Burnham did not end the matter by acknowledging the boy and taking him to her home.