Deering walked slowly toward Hood's bench.

Hood sat up, took his pipe from his mouth, and nodded.

"Hood, this is my father," said Billy.

"A great pleasure, I'm sure," Hood responded courteously, extending his
hand. "I suppose it was inevitable that we should meet sooner or later,
Mr. Deering."

"You--you _are_ Bob--Bob--Tyringham?" asked Deering anxiously.

"Right!" cried Hood in his usual assured manner. "And I will say for you
that you have given me a good chase. I confess that I didn't think you
capable of it; I swear I didn't! Tuck, I congratulate you; your father is
one of the true brotherhood of the stars. He's been chasing me for a
month and, by Jove, he's kept me guessing! But when I heard that he'd
been jailed for speeding, with a prospect of spending Sunday in this
hole, I decided that it was time to throw down the mask."

Lights began to dance in the remote recesses of Billy's mind. Hood was
Robert Tyringham, for whom his father held as trustee two million
dollars. Tyringham had not been heard of in years. The only son of a most
practical father, he had been from youth a victim of the _wanderlust_,
absenting himself from home for long periods. For ten years he had been
on the list of the missing. That Hood should be this man was
unbelievable. But the senior Deering seemed not to question his identity.
He sat down with a deep sigh and then began to laugh.

"If I hadn't found you by next Wednesday, I should have had to turn your
property over to a dozen charitable institutions provided for by your
father's will--and, by George, I've been fighting a temptation to steal
it!" His arms clasped Billy's shoulder convulsively. "It's been horrible,
ghastly! I've been afraid I might find you and afraid I wouldn't! I tell
you it's been hell. I've spent thousands of dollars trying to find you,
fearing one day you might turn up, and the next day afraid you wouldn't.
And, you know, Tyringham, your father was my dearest friend; that's what
made it all so horrible. I want you to know about it, Billy; I want you
to know the worst about me; I'm not the man you thought me. When I
started away with Constance and told you I was going to California I
decided to make a last effort to find Tyringham. I read a damned novel
that acted on me like a poison; that's why I've made a fool of myself in
a thousand ways, thinking that by masquerading over the country I might
catch Tyringham at his own game. And now you know what I mig