“It was I who wired you of the discovery of the lost child.”
“Under a false name, then,” said the lawyer scornfully.
“Not exactly, but under my own first name,” said Harcourt patiently.
“Well, sir, I answered your telegram in sufficiently clear terms, I think.”
“Yes; but—pray pardon me—your answer came in a few hours after my dispatch. Did you really have time to communicate with Miss Fronde on the subject before answering my telegram?”
“No. I relied upon my own responsibility as her solicitor, with perfect knowledge of her relations to the adopted child, as well as of all her other business, and I considered my course in the matter conclusive.”
“Yes,” said the young man, still very forbearingly, “and that would have settled the question as to what should be done with the forsaken orphan, and I should myself have taken care of her, had not a message come summoning me immediately to the sick bed of my dear mother, to whom I am even now en route, only waiting for the train that will start in less than two hours for West Virginia.”
“I am sorry to hear that Mrs. Harcourt is ill,” said the lawyer, softened a little by the sorrow and patience of his young visitor.
“Thank you, sir. Under such circumstances I really did not know what to do with the forlorn child, except to bring her along with me.”
“And you have really brought her here?” demanded the lawyer in surprise.