The old man took George and my father to the cell which he had occupied twenty years earlier—­but I cannot stay to describe his feelings on finding himself again within it.  The moment his grandfather’s back was turned, George said to my father, “And now shake hands also with your son.”

As he spoke he took my father’s hand and pressed it warmly between both his own.

“Then you know you are my son,” said my father as steadily as the strong emotion that mastered him would permit.

“Certainly.”

“But you did not know this when I was walking with you on Friday?”

“Of course not.  I thought you were Professor Panky; if I had not taken you for one of the two persons named in your permit, I should have questioned you closely, and probably ended by throwing you into the Blue Pool.”  He shuddered as he said this.

“But you knew who I was when you called me Panky in the temple?”

“Quite so.  My mother told me everything on Friday evening.”

“And that is why you tried to find me at Fairmead?”

“Yes, but where in the world were you?”

“I was inside the Musical Bank of the town, resting and reading.”

George laughed, and said, “On purpose to hide?”

“Oh no; pure chance.  But on Friday evening?  How could your mother have found out by that time that I was in Erewhon?  Am I on my head or my heels?”

“On your heels, my father, which shall take you back to your own country as soon as we can get you out of this.”

“What have I done to deserve so much goodwill?  I have done you nothing but harm?” Again he was quite overcome.

George patted him gently on the hand, and said, “You made a bet and you won it.  During the very short time that we can be together, you shall be paid in full, and may heaven protect us both.”

As soon as my father could speak he said, “But how did your mother find out that I was in Erewhon?”

“Hanky and Panky were dining with her, and they told her some things that she thought strange.  She cross-questioned them, put two and two together, learned that you had got their permit out of them, saw that you intended to return on Friday, and concluded that you would be sleeping in Sunch’ston.  She sent for me, told me all, bade me scour Sunch’ston to find you, intending that you should be at once escorted safely over the preserves by me.  I found your inn, but you had given us the slip.  I tried first Fairmead and then Clearwater, but did not find you till this morning.  For reasons too long to repeat, my mother warned Hanky and Panky that you would be in the temple; whereon Hanky tried to get you into his clutches.  Happily he failed, but if I had known what he was doing I should have arrested you before the service.  I ought to have done this, but I wanted you to win your wager, and I shall get you safely away in spite of them.  My mother will not like my having let you hear Hanky’s sermon and declare yourself.”