"You are the only witness, Philip, and it would be difficult to prove the crime. I will see Lynch. I will charge him with the base deed, and be governed, in my further proceedings, by the circumstances of the case. Where do you live, Philip?"
I gave him the address of Mrs. Greenough, and told him where I was at work. I was satisfied that the promised reward would stimulate him to great activity in the pursuit of Lynch, and I had some hope that he would be successful. Having disposed of the important part of my business with my seedy companion, I was rather curious to know more about him. I almost dared to believe that he could give me some information in regard to the steamer which had been burned on the upper Missouri, and from which I had been saved by my foster-father.
That steamer had borne the name of this man, and he had been her owner. Of course he knew all about her, and it was possible, even probable, that he knew who had lost a little child in the fearful calamity. I actually trembled when I thought of it, when I considered that, at the opening of this singular man's lips, I might be told who and what my father was, and whether my parents had perished or not. It was an anxious moment, and my heart was in my throat. I had not the courage to ask the momentous question, and Farringford rose unsteadily from his chair, to leave me.
"Stop a moment, Mr. Farringford, if you please," I interposed; and he dropped back into his chair.
"Isn't our business finished, Philip?"
"Yes, sir; but I have been told that you were formerly a large steamboat owner."
"Who told you so?"
"You did, for one. If you don't object, I should like to ask you something about those steamers," I continued, with much embarrassment.
"Do you wish to go into the steamboat business, Philip? If you do, some of my old captains are still on the river, and I can get you a situation. But I must have one more drink before I say anything."
"I wouldn't take any more, sir," I ventured to say.