‘It was Robert Hudson, sir.’
‘But Robert Hudson was the name of my father!’
‘Your father, sir! But, beggin’ your pardon, how can that be, when you’re called Egerton?’
‘I know I am; but I took the name from a relation who left me his money on condition that I did so. My real name is Richard Hudson, and I was brought up to the sea and adopted by my mother’s cousin, Henry Egerton, because my father treated me so brutally. He was had up by the police for thrashing me till I fainted, and then the magistrates gave me over to the guardianship of Mr Egerton——; and, Williams, can it possibly be?’
‘Sir, sir! don’t keep me in suspense. What was the maiden name of your mother?’
‘Charlotte Erskine, and she was born in Essex.’
‘At Pinfold?’
‘That is the place. My grandfather had the “Peartree Farm” there, and she is buried in Kensal Green Cemetery. Mr Egerton used often to take me to see her grave.’
‘Oh, sir! this is very, very wonderful! Is it possible you can be my little Dickey?’
‘It is quite true that I am the son of Robert and Charlotte Hudson, and that if I had not changed my name, we should have recognised each other before now. Do not think I have forgotten you, Williams? I cannot remember the face of my sailor friend; but I have never forgotten all his kindness to me. But surely I used to call you “Caleb” in those days, and have always thought of you by that name since.’