John Barton was wiping his eyes as Burke looked at him in happy bewilderment at this curious turn to his fortune.
"My boy, Bob," began the old man softly, "would you take the responsibility of a wife, earning no more money than a policeman can?"
Bob nodded. "I'd do it and give up everything in the world to make her happy if it were enough to satisfy her," he asserted.
Barton lifted up a letter which had been lying on the table beside him. He smiled as he read from it:
"DEAR MR. BARTON:
"The patents have gone through in great shape and they are so basic that no one can fight you on them. The Gresham Company has offered me, as your attorney, fifty thousand dollars as an advance royalty, and a contract for your salary as superintendent for their manufacture. We can get even more. It may interest you to know that your friend on the police force won't have to worry about a raise in salary. I have been working on his case with a lawyer in Decatur, Illinois. His uncle is willing to make a payment of twenty-four thousand dollars to prevent being prosecuted for misappropriation of funds on that estate. I will see you...."
Barton dropped the letter to his lap.
"Now, how does that news strike you?"
"I can't believe it real," gasped Burke, rubbing his forehead. "But I am more glad for you than for myself. You will have an immense fortune, won't you?"
Smiling into the faces of the two radiant girls, Old Barton drew Lorna to his side and, reaching forward, tugged at the hand of Mary.