“He is my son. I see his mother’s look in his face. As for you, Curtis Waring, my eyes are open at last to your villainy. You deserve nothing at my hands; but I will make some provision for you.”
There was another surprise.
Curtis Waring’s deserted wife, brought from California by Dodger, entered the room, leading by the hand a young child.
“Oh, Curtis,” she said, reproachfully. “How could you leave me? I have come to you, my husband, with our little child.”
“Begone! woman!” said Curtis, furiously. “I will never receive or recognize you!”
“Oh, sir!” she said, turning to Mr. Linden, “what shall I do?”
“Curtis Waring,” said Mr. Linden, sternly, “unless you receive this woman and treat her properly, you shall receive nothing from me.”
“And if I do?”
“You will receive an income of two thousand dollars a year, payable quarterly. Mrs. Waring, you will remain here with your child till your husband provides another home for you.”
Curtis slunk out of the room, but he was too wise to refuse his uncle’s offer.