“And with what success?”
“None as yet; but I am not discouraged. From here I go southwest. I feel that I shall succeed in the end. I find that the factor is unable to help me, and it is no doubt needless to ask you—”
“Quite so,” I interrupted. “Osmund Maiden is still an unfamiliar name to me.”
“Captain Rudstone knows the Canadas thoroughly,” said Griffith Hawke. “Perhaps he has run across your man in the past.”
My eyes were on the captain just then, and I fancied he gave a slight start; certain it is that a sudden flush colored his bronzed face a darker shade, and I remembered that this was not the first time he had shown agitation at the mention of the man Christopher Burley was seeking. But he was instantly himself again, and he calmly twisted his long mustaches as he answered:
“Osmund Maiden! I fancy I have heard the name somewhere in my time. May I ask, sir, what object you have in desiring to find this man?”
“That I may reveal to none save Osmund Maiden himself,” Christopher Burley replied. “But I beg of you to refresh your memory. It will be greatly to your advantage if you can give me any information—”
“Denzil, I have been thinking of something,” the factor interrupted suddenly. “Forgive me, my boy, for alluding to a personal and delicate matter; but I have always fancied that there was some mystery about your father—that his name might have been assumed. I speak thus frankly because Mr. Burley has honored me in part with his confidence—”
“There was no mystery,” I broke in sharply. I was angry with Griffith Hawke, though I knew that he meant well. “My father’s name was Carew,” I went on, “and he had a right to it. Why he left England I cannot say, but his home was in Yorkshire and his parents were dead when he came to the Canadas.”
“Then I am mistaken,” said Griffith Hawke.