A few steps brought him to the door of the vault in which his mother was immured. “Did she? I’m sorry, Mike. Purney's hand-writing," said Jack, advancing, "and can at once decide whether this is a forgery or not. There you are, the best client’s chair. Well, I don't think they'll any of 'em nab him, that's one comfort. There was more shouting. But, be like a son to her. “Dear old daddy!” she said, and was amazed to find herself shedding tears. ” “Oh, you mean Mr. So the charge was dismissed.
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