“My name is not Compton. It is Henry Lawton. All my early life was passed at York. There I married, had a son, and lived happily for years--in fact, during the childhood of my boy. “It was that boy of mine, Edgar, that led to all my troubles. I suppose we indulged him too much. It was natural. He was our only child, and so we ruined him. He got beyond our control at last and used to run about the streets of York. I did what I could to save him, but it was too late. “He went on from bad to worse, until at last he got in with a set of miscreants who were among the worst in the country. My God! to think how my boy, once a sweet child, could have fallen so low. But he was weak, and easily led, and so he went on from bad to worse. “I can not bear to go into particulars,” said the old man, after a long pause. “I will come at once to point. My poor, wretched boy got in with these miscreants, as I was telling you, and I did not see him from one month’s end to another. At last a great burglary took place. Three were arrested. Among these two were old offenders, hardened in vice, the one named Briggs, the other Crocker; the third was my unhappy boy.” The old man was silent for some time. “I do not think, after all, that he was guilty: but Briggs turned King’s Evidence, and Crocker and my son were condemned to transportation. There was no help. “I sold out all I had in the world, and in compliance with the entreaties of my poor wife, who nearly went mad with grief, I came out here. I changed my name to Compton. My boy’s term was for three years. I began a business out here, and as my boy behaved well he was able to get permission to hire out as a servant. I took him nominally as my servant, for no one knew that he was my son, and so we had him with us again. “I hoped that the bitter lesson which he had learned would prove beneficial, but I did not know the strength of evil inclinations. As long as his term of imprisonment lasted he was content and behaved well; but at last, when the three years were up, he began to grow restive. Crocker was freed at about the same time and my boy fell again under his evil influence. This lasted for about a year, when, at last, one morning a letter was brought me from him stating that he had gone to India. My poor wife was again nearly distracted. She thought of nothing but her boy. She made me take her and go in search of him again. So we went to India. After a long search I found him there, as I had feared, in connection with his old, vicious associates. True, they had changed their names, and were trying to pass for honest men. Crocker called himself Clark, and Briggs called himself Potts.” “Potts,” cried Brandon. “Yes,” said the other, who was too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice the surprise of Brandon. “He was in the employ of Colonel Despard, at Calcutta, and enjoyed much of his confidence.” “What year was this?” asked Brandon.