Across her brain there flashed a fugitive memory of three words
Jeff had spoken to his cousin the day of the accident. "It's your
father."

But how could that be? She had always understood that both the
parents of James were dead. The lawyer had denied knowing the man
whose life he had saved. And yet she had been sure of the words
and of a furtive, frightened look on the face of James. According
to the story of the _Herald_ the father of Jefferson, a former
convict, was named Robert. But once, when she had made some
allusion to it Captain Chunn had exploded into vigorous denial. It
was a puzzle the meaning of which she could not guess.

"He has several times mentioned his wish to thank you for your
kindness," Jeff mentioned.

"I'll be glad to meet him." Swiftly she flashed a question at him.
"Is he James Farnum's father?"

"Haven't you read the papers? He is said to be mine."

"But he isn't. He isn't. I see it now. James was ashamed to
acknowledge a father who had been in prison. Your enemies made a
mistake and you let it go."

"It's all long since past. I wouldn't say anything about it to
anybody."

"Of course you wouldn't," she scoffed. Her eyes were very bright.
She wanted to laugh and to weep at her discovery.