"That's my boy---my son!" declared Mr. Page. "And, oh! To think
of the fate that has come upon him. Wanted, perhaps for homicide!"
Then suddenly the flash of determination returned to the father's
eyes. He rose, stood erect, and went on:
"If he is my son, he needs guidance, aid---protection of such rights
as he may still have left. Above all, he must surrender himself
and go back to face the laws of the land like a man! If he has
done wrong, he must bow to the decision of a court, whatever that
may be. If this boy is my son, I will see to it that he does
all of this. If he is not my son, then-----"
"Then you will do well to drop him like a piece of hot metal,"
interposed the detective quietly.
"Silence!" flashed Mr. Page. "If Tag Mosher is not really my
son, then I will stand by his last spark of manhood as though
he were my son, and in memory of my own boy!"
"If you will permit me," proposed Tom Colquitt, "I will go back
to the road, get into the car and order your man to drive me to
the county jail. There I will see old Bill Mosher, and drag the
truth out of him. What Mosher has to say will be to the point."
"Go, by all means!" pleaded Mr. Page, who had now sunk down into
his seat trembling.
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