speaking of says that Adam Bogardus was his partner, who died in the woods
and was buried by his hand; that he knew his story, all the scenes and
circumstances of his life in many a long talk they had together, as well
as he knew his own. In his delirium he must have confused himself with his
old partner, and half in dreams, he said, half in the crazy satisfaction
of pretending to himself he had a son, he allowed the delusion to go on;
saw it work upon me, and half feared it, half encouraged it. Afterwards he
was frightened at the thought of meeting my mother, who would know him for
an impostor. His seeming scruples were fear of exposure, not consideration
for her. This was why he guarded their interview so carefully. 'No harm's
been done,' he says, 'if you'll act now like a sensible man. I'll be
disappointed in you if you make your mother any trouble about this. You've
treated me as square as any man could treat another. Remember, I say so,
and think as kindly as you can of a harmless, loony old impostor'--and he
signs himself 'John Hagar,'--which shows again how one lie leads to
another. We go to find 'John Hagar.'"

"Have you shown your mother this letter? You have not? Paul, you will not
rob her of her just defense!"

"I will not heap coals of fire on her head! This letter simply completes
his renunciation, and he meant it for her defense. But when a man signs
himself 'John Hagar' in the handwriting of my father, it shows that
somebody is not telling the truth. I used to pore over the old farm
records in my father's hand at Stone Ridge in the old account books stowed
away in places where a boy loves to poke and pry. I know it as well as I
know yours. Do you suppose she would not know it? When a man writes as few
letters as he does, the handwriting does not change." Paul laid the letter
upon the coals. "It is the only witness against her, but it loses the
case."