“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” she exclaimed; “what has he done?”
“Why, he’s robbed father, for one thing, by stealing his secret and selling it; and besides he tried to make us all believe father was dead.”
She gave a sudden cry, at this, and clasped her hands above her heart. Then, reading his face with questioning eyes, she managed to say:
“Speak, Will! What do you mean?”
“Why, father wasn’t lost at sea at all. He’s been in Birmingham all this time.”
She swayed for an instant, as if about to fall. Then, drawing herself tense, she said:
“If this is true, why did he never write to us? Why has he been silent so long?”
“Because Mr. Jordan made him believe we were dead, too, and poor father has been mourning for us all these years.”
“I—I don’t understand,” she murmured, brokenly. “How do you know all this, my son?”
“Father told me. I met him in London, and he came back with me.”