“No, no,” said his uncle, “let it be continued while I live. And after that I depend upon you to leave no effort unmade to discover some trace of my lost son.”
“You know me too well, to doubt that I will follow your instructions to the letter.”
“Yes, Lewis,” said his uncle. “You have been very kind to me. You deserve all my confidence, and you possess it.”
So Lewis continued to keep watch by his uncle’s bedside, a daily witness of his restlessness and unhappiness, and knowing full well that in an hour’s space, he could bring peace and comfort to the dying man by restoring his son to him; even at the eleventh hour, he refused to speak the word that could have wrought the blessed change.
God grant that there be not many hearts as hard!
CHAPTER XXI.
A CONSULTATION.
Mr. Sharp was seated in his office. A complacent smile played over his features. Perhaps he was thinking of the adroit manner in which he had secured one hundred dollars of the sum intrusted to him for Robert Ford. The bottle and glass, on the table before him, testified that his present occupation could hardly be considered of a professional character.
While Mr. Sharp was holding up the glass before him, and admiring the rich warm tint of its contents, Lewis Rand quietly opened the door of the office and walked in. Had Mr. Sharp been consulted, he would prefer to have been forewarned of the visit.
“Business driving as ever,” remarked Lewis, in his dry sarcastic way, taking in at a quick glance the scene before him.
“Well, yes,” said Mr. Sharp, in some embarrassment, putting down his glass, its contents untasted.