The old man seemed to take delight in torturing his hearer by
calling up painful memories. Receiving no answer to his question, he
continued:--

"But the boy, the boy Ralph, he perished, didn't he? Was burned up in
the wreck, wasn't he?"

"Stop!" exclaimed Burnham. "You have said enough. If you have any
object in repeating this harrowing story, let me know what it is at
once; if not, I have no time to listen to you further."

"I have an object," replied Craft, deliberately, "a most important
object, which I will disclose to you if you will be good enough to
answer my question. Your boy Ralph was burned up in the wreck at
Cherry Bridge, wasn't he?"

"Yes, he was. That is our firm belief; what then?"

"Simply this, that you are mistaken."

"What do you mean?"

"Your boy is not dead."

Burnham started to his feet, unable for the moment to speak. His face
took on a sudden pallor, then a smile of incredulity settled on his
lips.

"You are wild," he said; "the child perished; we have abundant proof