The lawyer took the paper up, and re-read it. "No;" he said. "The agreement was binding only on Burnham himself. It calls for the production of the boy to him personally; you can't produce anything to a dead man."
Old Simon settled back in his chair, a perfect picture of gaunt despair.
Sharpman continued: "This is a strange case, though. I thought that child of Burnham's was dead. Do you mean to say that the boy is still living?"
"Yes; that's it. He wasn't even hurt. Of course he's alive. I know it."
"Can you prove it?"
"Certainly!"
The lawyer gazed at his visitor, apparently in doubt as to the man's veracity or sanity, and again there was silence.
Finally Craft spoke. Another thought had come to him.
"The boy's mother; she's living, ain't she?"
"Burnham's widow? Yes; she's living."