ember that the people
paid but little attention to it."

They sat for a time in silence. Young Witherspoon spoke, but DeGolyer
did not answer him. They heard a guitar and a Spanish love song.

"Yes, it is strange," said DeGolyer, coming hack from a wandering
reverie. "It is strange that I should be here with you;" and under a
quickening of his newspaper instincts, he added, "and I shall have the
writing of it."

"But wait awhile before you let your mind ran on on that, Hank. I
don't want to be described and talked about so much. I know it can't
be kept out of the papers, but we'll discuss that after a while. Now,
let me tell you what I've done. I wrote to--to--father--don't that
sound strange? I wrote to him and sent him a copy of uncle's paper--I
would have sent the original, but I wanted to show that to you. I also
sent a note that mother--there it is again--wrote to uncle a long time
ago, and a lock of hair and some other little tricks. I told him to
write to me, and here's his letter. It came nearly four weeks ago. And
think, Hank, I've got a sister--grown and handsome, too, I'll bet."

Ecstasy had almost made the letter incoherent. It was written first by
one and then another hand, with frequent interchanges; and DeGolyer;
who fancied that he could pick character oat of the marks of a pen,
thought that a mother's heart had overflowed and that a hard,
commercial hand had cramped itself to a strange employment--the
expression of affection. The father deplored the fact that his son
could not be reached by telegraph, and still more did he lament his
inability, on account of urgent business demands, to come himself
instead of sending a letter. "Admit of no delay, but set out for home
at once," the father commanded. "Telegraph as soon as you can, and
your mother and I will meet you in New Orleans. I hope that this may
not be exploited in the newspapers. God knows that in our time we have
had enough of newspaper notoriety. Say nothing to any one, but come at
once, and we can give for publication such a statement as we think
necessary. Of course your discovery, as a sequel to your abduction
years ago and the tremendous interest aroused at the time, will be of
national importance, but I prefer that the news be sent out from this
place."

Here the handwriting was changed, and "love," "thank God," "darling
child," and emotion blots filled out the remainder of the page.

"You see," said Witherspoon, "that I have a reaso