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.
For some seconds neither spoke, then Rutter raised his head and looked into his son's face.
"I didn't know it was you, Harry.

I have been hunting you all day to ask your pardon." It was the memory of the last indignity he had heaped upon him that tortured him.
"I knew you didn't, father." "Don't go away again, Harry, please don't, my son!" he pleaded, strangling the tears, trying to regain his self-control--tears had often of late moistened Rutter's lids.