“And you—whose son are you?” gasped Mr. Granville.
“I don't know, sir. I was left at an early age at a hotel kept by this lady's husband, by my father, who never returned.”
“Then YOU must be my son!” said Mr. Granville. “You and not this boy!”
“You, sir? Did you leave me?”
“I left my son with Mr. Brent. This lady led me to believe that the boy at my side was my son.”
Here, then, was a sudden and startling occurrence. Mrs. Brent fainted. The strain had been too much for her nerves, strong as they were. Of course she must be attended to.
“Come with me; I cannot lose sight of you now, MY SON!” said Mr. Granville. “Where are you staying?”
“At the Palmer House.”
“So am I. Will you be kind enough to order a carriage.”
Mrs. Brent was conveyed to the hotel, and Jonas followed sullenly.