At these words the latter started up from the table and left the room. At the street door he found a man, whose appearance indicated his attachment to the police of the city.
"Mr. Howland!" said he, respectfully, yet with the air of a man who had something not very agreeable to communicate.
"That is my name," replied Mr. Howland, striving, but in vain, to assume an air of unconcern.
"You are wanted at the Mayor's office," said the policeman.
"For what purpose?" was inquired.
"Your son is before his Honor, on a charge of attempting to set fire to a row of new buildings last night."
At this intelligence, Mr. Howland uttered an exclamation of distress, and stepping back a pace or two, leaned heavily against the wall.
"Well! What is wanted with me?" asked the unhappy father, recovering himself, after a few moments.
"To go his bail," replied the officer. "The Mayor demands a thousand dollars bail, in default of which, he will have to go to prison and there await his trial."
"Let him go to prison!" said Mr. Howland, in a severe tone of voice. He was beginning to regain his self-possession.