“This Mrs. Rose had a child sick with scarlet fever, and just at that time you were similarly stricken. My daughter was told by the doctor that Mrs. Rose’s child could not live. Barker heard of this, and one day, when your uncle had to go to New York on important business, he had the two children changed, paying Mrs. Rose quite some money for the transaction.”
“Did your daughter know of the exchange?”
“She never knew, but she suspected something was wrong, and often asked me. The day Mrs. Rose’s child was taken to your uncle’s house it died, and as every one was afraid of scarlet fever, no one came in from the neighborhood, and the little one was buried the next day, the doctor making out a certificate without viewing the corpse.”
“And I was taken to Mrs. Rose’s house?”
“Yes. My daughter wanted to nurse you, but Mrs. Rose pretended to want to do the nursing herself, and would not let my daughter in the room. I believe the plan was to poison you, but you got well rapidly, and Mrs. Rose did not have the heart to poison you, but sent you off to an orphan asylum instead.”
“But how did I get to old Thompson’s?”
“Barker and Mrs. Rose quarrelled about a month later, and that very day you were taken from the orphan asylum by somebody, and then I lost track of you.”
“No doubt it was Barker’s work,” said Bob, remembering what Mary Ridley, who had worked for Peter Thompson, had told him. “What became of Mrs. Rose?”
“She died of heart failure brought on by the excitement of the quarrel. At least that is what they said. Perhaps Barker poisoned her, he is such a wretch.”
“And did he get possession of my uncle’s property?”