"Do you mean to say that you were not with the major at that time?"
"I did not know there was such a man at that time."
"Humph! I don't understand it," said James Bolton (this was the traveller's name). "I do remember, however, hearing that the boy, then called Philip, died at Florence."
"I think that settles it," said Ben. "Whoever the poor fellow may have been that died, I am sure that it was not I."
"Are you Major Grafton's adopted son, or ward?"
"No, sir; I am his private secretary. That is, I was hired in that capacity, though as yet I have not had much writing to do."
"You are lucky. Take care you don't die, like the other boy."
"I will try to live, I assure you, sir."
"By the way, just mention my name to the major—James Bolton, of London. I dare say he will remember me. Just say that I occupied the room opposite his in the Hotel des Bergues, in Geneva, and that we went to Chamounix together. I should be glad to renew my acquaintance with him, whenever he feels well enough to come on deck."