Bradley Wentworth’s face worked convulsively. His hard heart was touched at last.
“God bless you, boy,” he said; “you have restored my son to me. I shall not forget it. You can send your lawyer to me. I will do what is fair and right; I begin to think that I have been wrong all these years.”
“Will you consent to authorize a statement clearing my father from any connection with the forged check?”
“Yes, as long as I am not personally implicated.”
“Mr. Cochrane tells me that this can be arranged——”
“If Victor is at the hotel I will go over at once.”
Victor, uneasy and anxious, saw his father coming across the street. He did not know how he would be received, but he was not left long in suspense. The father’s hard heart was softened, and he felt sincerely grateful that his only child had been restored to him.
The next week the Seneca weekly published a card from Mr. Wentworth stating that a discovery had been made exonerating the late Warren Lane from the charge which had so long been laid at his door. “The guilt lies elsewhere,” so the card read, “but at this late day it is unnecessary to mention the name of the actual delinquent.”