“He is.”
“The devil! before me again, eh?” said Blood, angrily, but in an under tone. “What’s his business here at such an unseemly hour?”
“You had better ask him, sir; he won’t be long.”
“Confound the impudence of the rascal. What is your name?”
“Bob Bertram,” was the answer, “and not ashamed to own it,” said Bob, with all the innocence in the world, and never dreaming of the consequences.
“Bertram, Bertram?” said Colonel Blood, thinking. “I have heard that name before.”
“Perhaps so, sir; but what of it?”
Colonel Blood did not answer at the moment, but referred to a small gold-clasped memorandum book he carried in his breast pocket.
“Robert Bertram,” said he, turning over the leaves quickly. “Yes, of course; I thought I could not be mistaken. You came from Darlington? Your father was murdered——”
Poor Bob never thought of this.