The Mayor started. "Great Heavens, you cannot be his child?"
"Who are you speaking of?" inquired Joseph.
"Is—is—was your father's name Chester?"
The tears rushed into Joseph's eyes. He drew his hand suddenly from the Mayor's clasp, and his voice was broken as he answered:
"No, sir, it was my father's best friend that you killed!"
Farnham fell back in his chair, his hand dropped heavily upon the table, he strove to disclaim the guilt so mournfully imputed to him, but his eyes fell, and his tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. The strong man was dumb in the presence of that rebuking child.
"I must go now," said Joseph, moving backward, "Mrs. Chester is lost, and we must find her."
The Mayor did not hear him; he did not even know when the lad glided from his office; the last words had stunned him.
After a little he looked up and saw that Joseph was gone. As if drawn by some powerful magnetic force, he arose, took his hat and followed the lad.
Joseph was half across the park, but Farnham saw him at once, and followed with a sort of hushed feeling, as the wise men looked upon the star which led them to a Saviour.