"Amos!" repeated Mr. Gryce, with an odd look.
"Yes, and that this Amos had a son, Felix."
"Ah!"
"You see, sir, we must be on the right track; coincidences cannot extend through half a dozen names."
"You are right. It is I who have made a mistake in drawing my conclusions too readily. Let us hear about this Amos. You gathered something of his history, no doubt."
"All that was possible, sir. It is closely woven in with that of Poindexter, and presents one feature which may occasion you no surprise, but which, I own, came near nonplussing me. Though the father of Felix, his name was not Adams. I say was not, for he has been dead six months. It was Cadwalader. And Felix went by the name of Cadwalader, too, in the early days of which I have to tell, he and a sister whose name——"
"Well?"
"Was Evelyn."
"Sweetwater, you are an admirable fellow. So the mystery is ours."
"The history, not the mystery; that still holds. Shall I relate what I know of those two families?"