In Search of a Son

by William S. Walsh

"Yes, sir," answered Paul.

Monsieur Roger made a knot in the twine at the place where it rested on the top of the tower. Then he asked Paul to take the yard-stick which he had brought, and to hold it extended between his two hands. Then, drawing up the twine which hung outside the tower, he measured it yard by yard. Paul counted. When he had reached the number sixty, he could not help bending over to see how much remained of the twine.

"Ah, sir," he cried, "I think you have won."

"Let us finish our count," said Monsieur Roger, quietly.

And Paul counted,—

"Sixty-one, sixty-two,—sixty-two feet——"

"And?"

"And six inches!" cried Paul.

"I have won, as you said, my young friend," cried Monsieur Roger, who enjoyed Paul's surprise. "Now let us cautiously descend and return to the château, where the breakfast-bell will soon ring."

The descent was made in safety, and they directed their steps towards Sainte-Gemme. Paul walked beside Monsieur Roger without saying anything. He was deep in thought.