“And where do you wish Philip and I to remain in the meantime?”

“Here, of course.  Philip, will you ring the bell?”

“I don’t see any bell,” answered Jonas, bewildered.

“Touch that knob!”

Jonas did so.

“Will that ring the bell?” he asked curiously.

“Yes, it is an electric bell.”

“By gosh!” ejaculated Jonas.

“Don’t use such language, Philip!” said Mrs. Brent hastily.  “Your father will be shocked.  You see, Mr. Granville, Philip has associated with country boys, and in spite of my care, he has adopted some of their language.”

Mr. Granville himself was rather disturbed by this countrified utterance, and it occurred to him that his new-found son needed considerable polishing.

“Ah, I quite understand that, Mrs. Brent,” he said courteously.  “He is young yet, and there will be plenty of time for him to get rid of any objectionable habits and phrases.”

Here the servant appeared.

“Tell the clerk to assign this lady and the boy rooms on this floor if any are vacant.  Mrs. Brent, Philip may have a room next to you for the present.  When I am better I will have him with me.  John, is dinner on the table?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then, after taking possession of your rooms, you and Philip had better go to dinner.  I will send for him later.”

“Thank you, sir.”

As Mrs. Brent was ushered into her handsome apartment her face was radiant with joy and exultation.

“All has gone well!” she said.  “The most difficult part is over.”

CHAPTER XIX.

A narrow escape from detection.

The conspiracy into which Mrs. Brent had entered was a daring one, and required great coolness and audacity.  But the inducements were great, and for her son’s sake she decided to carry it through.  Of course it was necessary that she should not be identified with any one who could disclose to Mr. Granville the deceit that was being practiced upon him.  Circumstances lessened the risk of detection, since Mr. Granville was confined to his room in the hotel, and for a week she and Jonas went about the city alone.

One day she had a scare.

She was occupying a seat in a Chestnut Street car, while Jonas stood in front with the driver, when a gentleman whom she had not observed, sitting at the other end of the car, espied her.

“Why, Mrs. Brent, how came you here?” he asked, in surprise, crossing over and taking a seat beside her.

Her color went and came as, in a subdued tone, she answered.

“I am in Philadelphia on a little visit, Mr. Pearson.”

“Are you not rather out of your latitude?” asked the gentleman.

“Yes, perhaps so.”

“How is Mr. Brent?”

“Did you not hear that he was dead?”

“No, indeed!  I sympathize with you in your sad loss.”