“There may have been.”
“But I should think the old man would have suspected.”
“He was away at the time. When he returned to the city, he heard from his nephew that the boy was dead. It was a great blow to him, of course. Now, I’ll tell you what,” said Graves, sinking his voice so that Frank found it difficult to hear, “I’ll tell you what I’ve thought at times.”
“I think the grandson may have been spirited off somewhere. Nothing more easy, you know. Murder is a risky operation, and John Wade is respectable, and wouldn’t want to run the risk of a halter.”
“You may be right. You don’t connect this story of yours with the boy you’ve brought here, do you?”
“I do,” answered Graves, emphatically. “I shouldn’t be surprised if this was the very boy!”
“What makes you think so?”
“First, because there’s some resemblance between the boy and the old man’s son, as I remember him. Next, it would explain John Wade’s anxiety to get rid of him. It’s my belief that John Wade has recognized in this boy the baby he got rid of fourteen years ago, and is afraid his uncle will make the same discovery.”
Frank left the crevice through which he had received so much information in a whirl of new and bewildering thoughts.
“Was it possible,” he asked himself, “that he could be the grandson of Mr. Wharton, his kind benefactor?”