isten! Burnham died rich. His wealth will mount well up into the
hundreds of thousands. He leaves a widow and one daughter, a little
girl. This boy, if he is really Burnham's son, is entitled to one
third of the personal property absolutely, to one third of the real
estate at once, and to one fourth of the remainder at his mother's
death. Do you understand?" Old Simon nodded. This was worth listening
to. He began to think that this shrewd lawyer was going to put him
in the way of making a fortune after all. Sharpman continued: "Now,
the boy is a minor. He must have a guardian. The mother would be the
guardian preferred by law; but if, for any reason, she should fail
to recognize the boy as her son, some one else must be appointed. It
will be the duty of the guardian to establish his ward's identity in
case it should be disputed, to sue for his portion of the estate, if
necessary, and to receive and care for it till the boy reaches his
majority. The usual guardian's commission is five per cent, retainable
out of the funds of the estate. Do you see how the management of such
an estate would be a fortune to a guardian, acting within the strict
letter of the law?"

Craft nodded again, but this time with eagerness and excitement. He
saw that a scheme was being opened up to him that outrivalled in
splendid opportunities any he had ever thought of.

After a pause Sharpman asked, glancing furtively at his client:--

"Do you think, Mr. Craft, that you could take upon your shoulders the
duties and responsibilities attendant upon such a trust? In short,
could you act as this boy's guardian?"

"Yes, no doubt of it"; responded the old man, eagerly. "Why, I would
be the very person. I am his nearest friend."

"Very well; that's my opinion, too. Now, then, as to the boy's
identity. There must be no mistake in proving that. What proof have
you? Tell me what you know about it."

Thus requested, Craft gave to the lawyer a detailed account of the
disaster at the bridge, of the finding and keeping of Ralph, of his
mysterious disappearance, and of the prolonged search for him.

"Day before yesterday," continued the old man, "I was watching the
crowds at the circus,--I knew the boy was fond of circuses,--an who
should go by me into the tent but this same Ralph. I made sure he was
the identical person, and yesterday I went to Robert Burnham, and got
that paper."

"Indeed! Where does the boy live? what does he do?"

"Why, it seems t