"Yes, sir."
"And have you any explanation why?"
"I didn't have then; I've worked one out. You see, my name really being Whitelaw, and her mind a little unbalanced, she was afraid she might be suspected of—your little boy's case had got so much publicity—and she a friendless woman, with no husband or relations—"
"So that you don't think she did—steal you?"
He answered firmly. "No, sir. I don't"
"Why don't you?"
"For one thing, I don't want to."
"Oh!"
It was the woman again. The sound was rather queer. You could not have told whether it meant relief or indignation.
The man's sad penetrating eyes were bent on him sympathetically. "When you say that you don't want to, exactly what do you mean?"