“I was aboard the convict-ship Success while she was in the New York harbor this spring,” commented the minister. “I don’t see how civilized men could think out so many different modes of torture and remain civilized, let alone human.”
“Nor I. I was aboard the old tub, too. That was the ship my client was on. It was when she first came out.”
The Elder was acting queerly.
“Dad, what’s wrong?” asked Harold, with concern.
“Nothing,––er––nothing. Only I do wish you would not take this trip. Can’t you send some one else?”
“I’m afraid not. You see, I’m not my own boss. No, Dad, I can’t get out of it.”
Harold had never seen his father so concerned for his welfare, and it greatly affected him.
“They won’t trouble me, not in the least. To ease your mind I’ll go under an assumed name, if you say so. But I must get my data at the source concerning this man Adoniah Phillips, if–––”