She proceeded after a pause: 

“I did not then understand his object.  Your story makes it clear.  I think that you are that Francis Wharton, under whose name my boy was buried.”

“How strange!” said Frank, thoughtfully.  “I cannot realize it.  But how did you know the name of the man who called upon you?”

“A card slipped from his pocket, which I secured without his knowledge.”

“How fortunate that I met you,” said Frank.  “I mean to let Mr. Wharton know all that I have learned, and then he shall decide whether he will recognize me or not as his grandson.”

“I have been the means of helping to deprive you of your just rights, though unconsciously.  Now that I know the wicked conspiracy in which I assisted, I will help undo the work.”

“Thank you,” said Frank.  “The first thing is to get out of this place.”

“I cannot open the door of your room.  They do not trust me with the key.”

“The windows are not very high from the ground.  I can get down from the outside.”

“I will bring you a clothesline and a hatchet.”

Frank received them with exultation.

“Before I attempt to escape,” he said, “tell me where I can meet you in New York.  I want you to go with me to Mr. Wharton’s.  I shall need you to confirm my story.”

“I will meet you to-morrow at No. 15 B—­Street.”

“Then we shall meet to-morrow.  What shall I call your name?”

“Mrs. Parker.”

“Thank you.  I will get away as quickly as possible, and when we are in the city we will talk over our future plans.”

With the help of the hatchet, Frank soon demolished the lower part of the window.  Fastening the rope to the bedstead, he got out of the window and safely descended to the ground.

A long and fatiguing walk lay before him.  But at last he reached the cars, and half an hour later the ferry at Jersey City.

Frank thought himself out of danger for the time being, but he was mistaken.

Standing on the deck of the ferryboat, and looking back to the pier from which he had just started, he met the glance of a man who had intended to take the same boat, but had reached the pier just too late.  His heart beat quicker when he recognized in the belated passenger his late jailer, Nathan Graves.

Carried away by his rage and disappointment, Nathan Graves clenched his fist and shook it at his receding victim.

Our hero walked into the cabin.  He wanted a chance to deliberate.  He knew that Nathan Graves would follow him by the next boat, and it was important that he should not find him.  Where was he to go?

Fifteen minutes after Frank set foot on the pier, his enemy also landed.  But now the difficult part of the pursuit began.  He had absolutely no clew as to the direction which Frank had taken.

For an hour and a half he walked the streets in the immediate neighborhood of the square, but his labor was without reward.  Not a glimpse could he catch of his late prisoner.