She hesitated. The man poised his pen over the paper expectantly. Said
Laura, briskly:

"Write 'Peyton J. Weld.'"

At her words Janet Steele uttered a startled exclamation. The man did not
notice this. He wrote the name as Laura requested. Chet, looking over his
shoulder and with one of the Osage bank-notes in his hand for comparison,
watched the signature dashed off in almost perfect imitation of that upon
the bank-note.

"You guessed it, Mother Wit!" the big boy cried. "Write it again, Mr. Weld.
That is your name as sure as you live!"

The surgeon stepped quickly to the bedside and his sharp eyes darted from
the bank-note in the boy's hand to the signature his patient had written.
The man looked wonderingly about the room, his puzzled gaze drifting from
one to another of his visitors until it finally fastened upon the pale
countenance of Janet Steele.

Catching his eye, the girl stepped forward impulsively, her hands clasped.

"Uncle Jack!" she breathed.

"You--you look quite like your mother used to, my dear," the man in bed
said in rather a strange voice.

The surgeon eased him back upon the pillows, and at a nod the nurse sent
the visitors out of the room. In the corridor they all stood amazed,
staring at Janet.