Mr. Burnham resumed his seat and wrote hurriedly, the following contract:-- "This agreement, made and executed this thirtieth day of June, 1867, between Simon Craft of the city of Philadelphia, party of the first part, and Robert Burnham of the city of Scranton, party of the second part, both of the state of Pennsylvania, witnesseth that the said Craft agrees to produce to the said Burnham, within two days from this date, the son of the said Robert Burnham, named Ralph, in full life, and in good health of body and mind. And thereupon the said Burnham, provided he recognizes as his said son Ralph the person so produced, agrees to pay to the said Craft, in cash, the sum of six thousand dollars. Witness our hands and seals the day and year aforesaid. "ROBERT BURNHAM." [L.S.] "There!" said Burnham, handing the paper to Craft; "that will secure you in the payment of the money, provided you fulfil your agreement. But let me be plain with you. If you are deceiving me or trying to deceive me, or if you should practise fraud on me, or attempt to do so, you will surely regret it. And if that child be really in life, and you have been guilty of any cruelty toward him, of any kind whatever, you will look upon the world through prison bars, I promise you, in spite of the money you may obtain from me. Now you understand; go bring the boy." The old man did not answer. He was holding the paper close to his eyes, and going over it word by word. "Yes," he said, finally; "I suppose it's all right. I'm not very familiar with written contracts, but I'll venture it." Burnham had risen again from his chair, and was striding up and down the floor. "When will you bring him?" he asked; "to-morrow?" "My dear sir, do not be in too great haste; I am not gifted with miraculous powers. I will bring the boy here or take you to him within two days, as I have agreed." "Well, then, to-day is Tuesday. Will you have him here by Friday? Friday morning?" "By Friday afternoon, at any rate." The old man was carefully wrapping up the articles he had exhibited, and putting them back into his hand-bag. Finally, Burnham's attention was attracted to this proceeding. "Why," he exclaimed, "what are you doing? You have no right to those things; they are mine." "Oh no! they are mine. They shall be given to you some time perhaps; but, for the present, they are mine." "Stop! you shall not have them. Those things are very precious to me. Put them down, I say; put them down!" "Very well. You may have these or--your boy. If you force these things from me, you go without your child. Now take your choice."