It was then that the fever played its favorite game by confusing his brain and tangling his thoughts.  He wandered down to the docks and aboard a tramp steamer about to lift anchor.  When the vessel was far away the fateful disease released its grip on his body.  But in the many months of cruising among unnamed islands in southern seas, it cruelly mocked him with a belief he had purloined the money and taunted him with forgetfulness as to the hiding place.

When Page left the ship at a Japanese port memory cleared enough to give him back a part of his name, but tricked him into hiding from a crime he had not committed.

My remorse was unmeasurable as I realized the whole truth, but my heart out-caroled any lark that ever grew a feather.  The boy’s soul was as clean as our love for him was deep.

[Illustration:  “Oh! boy, boy, I thought I’d lost you”]

“You see,” continued Mr. Hamilton, “Page’s mother died when he was only a lad, and my responsibility was doubled.  When his regular letters ceased I cabled his firm for information.  They were unable to find any trace of him.  He had always been such a strong, sturdy youth I could not connect him with illness.  Fearing he had been waylaid or was held for ransom I offered the reward through my Chicago bankers.  The months at sea of course blocked us.  The suspense was growing intolerable when the information came from Mr. Kobu; that brought me here.”

All this time the detective had been silent.  But no word or look of the others escaped him.  At last the thing was forced upon him.  He had missed the much-wanted cashier whose capture meant a triumph over the whole detective world.  And he had been so very sure Page was the man!  Descriptions and measurements were so alike.  Both from the same city, one with the name of Hamilton, the other with that of Hammerton.

As Page’s father remarked when he heard the story:  “Mr. Kobu, those names are enough alike to be brothers, though I’m glad they are not.”

But Kobu was not to be coaxed into any excuse for himself.  Any one who knew him could but know the humiliation he would suffer at mistaking the prize.  Even a big reward was slight balm to the blow at his pride.  Intently he watched and listened until the details were clear to him.  He could not understand all this emotion and indulgence in tears which were good only to wash the dust from eyes.  But Kobu was truly Japanese in his comprehension of a father’s love.  He masked his chagrin with a smile and paid unstinted praise to the man who had tirelessly searched for his only son.  With many bows and indrawings of breath the detective made a profound adieu to each of us and took his leave.

As the sound of the closing lodge gates reached us something in Jane’s attitude caught my attention.  In her eye was the look of a mischievous child who had foiled its playmate.

“Jane, what is the matter with you?” I asked.