“Because you certainly do know him, and have had visits from him. It is that that brings me here.”
“I do not understand you,” said Mr. Somers, in perplexity. “The only boy I know of is one engaged in Mr. Leonard’s dry-goods store. He saved me from being crushed under a street car. I have been very grateful to him, and have called on him, and made him visit me.”
“And is that all?” said the officer, laughing. “You do not know what suspicions have been excited.”
“But Will Somers, you say. Is that his name? I did not ask him.”
“That is his name.”
“Do you think it possible he may be my son?” asked the old gentleman, pathetically.
“It is not impossible,” was the reply. “Will has had a rough life in the streets. I do not know his antecedents.”
“Heaven send he may prove my son,” said the old man, with tears in his eyes. “He is none the worse for his rough life. He is noble, brave, strong and beautiful. I would be glad to call him son.”
“And looks like you, Mr. Somers.”
“Do you really think so? I had a thought that way. That is another important link.”