Annie wanted to come with me, but I wouldn’t let her.  I knew Seymour wasn’t out of bed that early, and so I drove straight to the shipping office and waited until it was open, and I’ve been hunting for him ever since.  You and I have been boys together, St. George—­don’t lay up against me all the insulting things I’ve said to you—­all the harm I’ve done you!  God knows I’ve repented of it!  Will you forgive me, St. George, for the sake of the old days—­for the sake of my boy to whom you have been a father?  Will you give me your hand?  What in the name of common sense should you and I be enemies for?  I, who owe you more than I owe any man in the world!  Will you help me?”

St. George was staring now.  He bent forward, gripped the arms of his chair for a better purchase, and lifted himself to his feet.  There he stood swaying, Rutter’s outstretched hand in both of his, his whole nature stirred—­only one thought in his heart—­to wipe out the past and bring father and son together.

“Yes, Talbot—­I’ll forgive you and I’ll help you—­I have helped you!  Harry will be here in a few minutes—­I sent him out to get his beard shaved off—­that’s why you didn’t know him.”

The colonel reeled and but for St. George’s hand would have lost his balance.  All the blood was gone from his cheeks.  He tried to speak, but the lips refused to move.  For an instant St. George thought he would sink to the floor.

“You say—­Harry ... is here!” he stammered out at last, catching wildly at Temple’s other hand to steady himself.

“Yes, he came across Todd by the merest accident or he would have gone to the Eastern Shore to look me up.  Listen!—­that’s his step now!  Turn that door knob and hold out your hands to him, and after you’ve got your arms around him get down on your knees and thank your God that you’ve got such a son!  I do, every hour I live!”

The door swung wide and Harry strode in:  his eyes glistening, his cheeks aglow.

“Up, are you, and in your clothes!” he cried joyfully, all the freshness of the morning in his voice.  “Well, that’s something like!  How do you like me now?—­smooth as a marlinspike and my hair trimmed in the latest fashion, so old Bones says.  He didn’t know me either till he got clear down below my mouth and when my chin began to show he gave a—­”

He stopped and stared at his father, who had been hidden from sight by the swinging door.  The surprise was so great that his voice clogged in his throat.  Rutter stood like one who had seen an apparition.

St. George broke the silence: 

“It’s all right, Harry—­give your father your hand.”

The colonel made a step forward, threw out one arm as if to regain his equilibrium and swayed toward a chair, his frame shaking convulsively, wholly unstrung, sobbing like a child.  Harry sprang to catch him and the two sank down together—­no word of comfort—­only the mute appeal of touch—­the brown hand wet with his father’s tears.