Chris had not been well for a good while, he admitted, and had been separated from "daddy" much of the time since leaving Fair Harbor. In the brief little note that had come to him, his father had not said where he was going, but as business would be likely to keep him away for some months he directed him to come to Dr. Dudley and deliver the letter in person. "Yes, we will have him up in the convalescent ward," the physician replied, in response to Polly's question, and he stepped to the telephone, to order a bed prepared for him at once. Polly saw a shadow of anxiety on the pale little face, and began to reassure him. "It is lovely up there, and you'll get well right away and have such good times. I'm over here every day, sometimes two or three times a day--I shall be now to see you." And so the lonely heart was comforted. The day was full of work for Dr. Dudley, and Mr. Morrow's letter stayed unopened in his pocket until his evening rounds had been made. In his first leisure moment, he cut the envelope and skimmed the closely written pages. He read them twice before he laid them down. Then, leaning back in his chair, he pondered the strange situation. Finally he took up the letter and read it through again. It bore neither date nor address nor signature, and began abruptly. DEAR DOCTOR,-- Here I am!--up for two years, and God only knows what will become of my boy! He is, as you know, an abnormally sensitive child, who will grieve for "daddy" to the breaking of his heart, unless you open your heart and home and take him in. You were good to him once, and he loves you and your Polly. I am sure he would be happy with you. Will you do this kindness for me? No, not for me,--a man who has not the slightest claim upon you and who would not deserve it if he had,--but for the sake of his angel mother, for the sake of the poor little kid himself, perhaps you will not refuse. Chris does not know where I am, and he must not be told,--_he must never know_. When my two years are up, we will go somewhere and begin life all over again. I have had enough of this infernal business, and am going to live straight as soon as I get another chance. In the six years I have been at it I have been lucky, many times slipping out of the very teeth of the law, until they called me "Slippery 'Chard." I thought I was smart enough to elude anybody; but this last job was my undoing. My partner was too fond of talk and whiskey--he gave us away easy, and we're both out of it for these two years. I ought to have known better than to take him on.