“Yes, sir. I now perceive the cause of your astonishment. It is a name with which you have some connection—”
“Will you be good enough to tell me what part of the world you are from?” demanded Mr. Lambert.
“I was born in the state of Missouri, in the year 1895. My parents were people of consequence in a humble way. My father had for many years been the proprietor of a solid business in dyes and textiles—”
“My dear sir, I don’t want your biography,” interrupted Mr. Lambert, but in a remarkably softened voice. “Your father’s name was—?”
“Samuel Winkler.”
“Samuel? And his father’s?”
“John.”
“John—Johann! By Jove!” cried Mr. Lambert. And he began to rummage in the drawer of his desk, bringing to light the large scroll on which was traced the family tree of the Winklers. Just as he had unrolled it under Paul’s eyes, he now unrolled it again, and eagerly began to trace the lines of twigs and branches.
“Here!” he exclaimed, “Samuel Winkler—son of the first Johann—moves to Missouri in 1817—two sons, Ferdinand and Johann. Ferdinand died 1824. Johann married, 1850—Samuel, your father, born 1857. Is that right, sir?”
“Yes.”