"Yes; that is my name."
"Are you the son of John Barton, who once worked in the shoe factory of Weeks Brothers?"
"Yes, sir," answered Bert, coloring, for he knew that the stranger must be aware that his father was resting under a criminal charge.
"I thought I could not be mistaken. You look as your father did at your age."
"Then you knew my father as a boy?" said Bert, eagerly.
"I was a schoolmate of his. Later on I was employed in the same factory with him—that of Weeks Brothers."
"Did you know under what circumstances he left the factory?" asked Bert, with some embarrassment.
"Yes, I knew all about it. But I want you to come home and pass the night at my house, and we will talk over that and other matters."
"Thank you, sir. I will give notice to a friend who rooms with me."
Bert found Mr. Pearson, and informed him that he would absent himself for one night from Mrs. Shelby's boarding-house. Then he returned to Mr. French.