"Bring him in," said Paul Morton.
A moment later, and a boy of fourteen entered the room, and looked inquiringly at the two who were sitting at the table.
"Are you Robert Raymond?" inquired Mr. Morton.
"Yes, sir," said the boy, in manly tones. "How is my father?"
"Your father, my poor boy," said Paul Morton, in pretended sadness, "is, I regret to say, in a very precarious condition."
"Don't you think he will live?" asked Robert, anxiously.
"I fear not long. I am glad you have come. I will go up with you at once to your father's chamber. I hope you will look upon me as your sincere friend, for your father's sake. Maria, my dear, this is young Robert Raymond. Robert, this is Mrs. Morton."
Mrs. Morton gave her hand graciously to the boy. Looking upon him as her probable savior from utter ruin, she was disposed to regard him with favor.
Mr. Morton rose from the table, and motioning Robert to follow him, led the way to the sick man's chamber.