"Well," he demanded impatiently. "What did you learn?"
"I guess the boy is yours, Mr. Page," Colquitt answered. "Bill
Mosher told us a pretty straight story. He found the child at
the railway wreck, and he and his wife took it home, expecting
that parents or friends would soon claim it. Bill says his wife
was a good woman, and, when no one claimed the boy, she kept it
and loved it as her own. Bill admits that his part in the transaction
was due to the hope of receiving a reward. After his wife died,
Bill, it seems, went to the dogs, followed his naturally shiftless
bent, and, from a common vagrant, became a drunkard and common
thief. Yet Bill claims, with an air of a good deal of virtue,
that he never stole anything he didn't really need, and that he
brought Tag up the same way."
Mr. Page, white-faced and trembling, listened to the detective's
dry recital.
"You have taken pains to find further verification of the fact
that this unhappy boy is my son, haven't you?"
"Oh, yes," the detective went on. "Bill described with great
minuteness the clothing the child wore when found, even to the
embroidered letter 'p' on the underclothing. And Bill tells me
that his sister has kept that clothing ever since, in the hope
that something might come of it.
Pages:
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177