"As for myself, the second of the three. It will be a pleasing thing for the world to read, and for me to confess, that I was the person who found the child and arranged the bargain. And that afterwards, when I discovered that for 'adoption' I must read 'substitution,' I held my tongue until proofs had been discovered which rendered further silence impossible. I am an Ex-President of the College of Physicians; I am a Fellow of the Royal Society; I have written learned works on points of pathology; I am a leader in practice; I am a K.C.B. It will be a very delightful exposure for me, will it not?"
"Well," said Molly, "but you might have told us when you found it out."
"As for yourself, my dear madam, I believe that in the States they are curious about rich people."
"They just want to know even what you eat and drink."
"Then consider—you must—the effect upon your own reputation, which will be produced when you have to confess that you sold your child—sold: it is an ugly word, is it not?—sold your child for fifty pounds."
"Why should the story come to light at all?" asked Molly.
"There are secrets in most families. In my position I learn many. I certainly considered this as one of them. The only reason why this must come to light is that the young man must lay down his title. His name fortunately remains unchanged."
"Who cares for a title?" asked Molly.
"You would, young lady, if you had one. An hereditary title, however, cannot be laid down at will. It belongs to a man—to his father, to his eldest son. To lay it down would require explanation. And there is no other explanation possible except one—that the man is not the son of his putative father."
"Doctor," said Alice, "I don't care what the world says. I shall not listen to what the world says. I want my boy."