“I was too weak and sorrowful to make opposition, and my baby was buried as Francis Wharton. Not only this, but a monument is erected over him at Greenwood, which bears this name.”
She proceeded after a pause:
“I did not then understand his object. Your story makes it clear. I think that you are that Francis Wharton, under whose name my boy was buried.”
“How strange!” said Frank, thoughtfully. “I cannot realize it. But how did you know the name of the man who called upon you?”
“A card slipped from his pocket, which I secured without his knowledge.”
“How fortunate that I met you,” said Frank. “I mean to let Mr. Wharton know all that I have learned, and then he shall decide whether he will recognize me or not as his grandson.”
“I have been the means of helping to deprive you of your just rights, though unconsciously. Now that I know the wicked conspiracy in which I assisted, I will help undo the work.”
“Thank you,” said Frank. “The first thing is to get out of this place.”
“I cannot open the door of your room. They do not trust me with the key.”
“The windows are not very high from the ground. I can get down from the outside.”