“That’s a hard thing to put up to a lawyer, accustomed to dealing only in stern facts, and eliminating fiction from his figuring. But since meeting Ralph here I’ve made up my mind to turn to his side of the case. In fact, before coming up I wrote to the address Mr. Musgrove left me, informing him that I must throw up his affairs, since business was too pressing. That leaves me free-handed; and I can assist your young friend, Frank, without stultifying myself.” “I knew you would, Uncle Jim. And now tell us what you think!” cried Frank. “Just this: I have a suspicion that Mr. Arnold Musgrove may have had a hand in some business in the past that would not bear inspection. In other words, that he was responsible for that boy being left at the door of the poorhouse! That is a bold assertion to make, without positive proof, and I would hardly like to stand sponsor for it in court; but I am only telling you this in secret.” “Yes, go on, please,” said Frank, throwing an arm again around Ralph’s shoulders, for he knew the other was trembling violently with emotion. “And as the years rolled on he must have kept informed about what happened, for he knew all about how Ralph had been adopted by the Wests; yes, even to his ambition for an education. I imagine the man’s conscience has begun to reproach him as he grows older; and that it has finally forced him to do something to compensate in a small way for his action!” After the lawyer had ceased talking there was silence for a full minute, broken finally by Frank, saying: “Well, perhaps he may know it all to-night. I’ve got my suspicions already, but I’m not going to say anything yet. But I tell you I won’t sleep a wink to-night until I’ve heard what Ralph has to report. By the way, did you ever find out what the name of Mr. Musgrove’s widowed sister was?” “Yes, I had that much curiosity. It is Mrs. John Langworthy, and her husband was a very smart and wealthy lawyer years ago,” replied Uncle Jim, with a knowing smile. “H’m; Langworthy, eh?” and Frank looked meaningly at Ralph, as he echoed the name. CHAPTER XX TWICE A PRISONER It was a peculiar coincidence that the freshman spread was to come off this same night that meant so much to Ralph. The sophomores had been wild to glean the particulars, so that they might in some fashion manage to break up the feast, either by kidnaping some of the first-year students, get possession of the president of the class, or else purloin the good things that had been laid in for the spread. Ralph had intended going, for it promised to be great fun. This new turn to his own private affairs, however, knocked the notion out of his head. Indeed, he forgot about it entirely. The minutes dragged terribly, and yet he knew that he ought to wait a decent time to allow Sam Smalling and his little family a chance to eat their supper.