The head salesman kept what he called a "lumber book." The first entry in it was the amount of stock on hand at the beginning of the year. To this was added all lumber bought, and from it all sales were deducted, so that the book showed the amount of lumber of each kind on hand. This he did so as to be able at all times to report what new stock was needed, and then Mr. Whippleton ordered it. As there was not a great variety of merchandise, the keeping of this book did not demand much labor, each salesman being required to deduct his sales from the gross amounts.

None of the invoices which were missing had been entered in this book. It appeared, therefore, that the firm had thirty thousand dollars worth of stock on hand more than was exhibited by the lumber book. I did not understand it, and I came to the conclusion that I did not know half so much about book-keeping as I had flattered myself I did. Still my accounts all "proved," and though I worked over this problem every evening till midnight, I could not arrive at any different result.

I was amazed, and even vexed. I did not like to say anything to Mr. Whippleton, because I wished to surprise him with my knowledge of accounts on the first of the month. It would astonish him to learn that the firm had lost over ten thousand dollars in five months, several of them the best in the year for business. I came to the conclusion that my laudable design would be a failure, or only prove that I was a vain and conceited boy, who knew but little of the science of accounts. I did not suspect that anything was wrong, except in my own calculations. Probably Mr. Whippleton knew all about the matter, and in due time would set it right, showing that the concern had made twenty or thirty thousand dollars in five months, instead of losing ten thousand.

"Is Mr. Whippleton in?" asked a gentleman, one day, while I was harassing my brain over the knotty problem.

"No, sir," I replied. "He went out at ten o'clock, and I have not seen him since."

"Sorry; I wanted to see him."

I soon found that this gentleman was the agent of the Michigan Pine Company, in whose invoice the discrepancy of ten thousand dollars appeared. Without indicating my purpose, I made such inquiries of him as enabled him to give the information I wanted. I was satisfied that the invoice on file was correct, and that no lumber had been purchased for which the firm had not received a bill.

Of course this discovery only added to my perplexity, and I worked half a day over the head salesman's lumber book; but I finished the investigation no wiser than I had begun it. On the cash book it appeared that the amount of the actual bill had been paid at one time, and the ten thousand dollars at another. I give the amount in round numbers, though it varied somewhat from these figures. I worried myself over the matter till I was afraid it would make me sick, and then I gave it up in despair. The first day of the month came, and when I added the month's business to my trial balance, I found another amount of five thousand dollars unexplained by any invoice. The balance against the firm remained about the same. Mortified at my defeat, I decided to show my statement to Mr. Whippleton, for I was deeply interested to know where "the figures lied."

"What's that?" demanded the junior partner, as I laid my balance sheet and statement before him.

"I have made out a trial balance and statement, sir," I replied.

"Who told you to do that?" he asked, with a glance at the sanctum of Mr. Collingsby.

"No one, sir."

"What do you mean by wasting your time in that way?"

"You told me to look into the system of keeping the books, and I thought I could not do it any better than by getting out a trial balance for the last six months."

"We don't take a trial balance but once a year."

"I only did it for practice, so that I might understand it better when I had to do the real thing."

"I don't care about your overhauling the books to that extent without my knowledge," added Mr. Whippleton, looking very much displeased.

I began to think I had sailed my last sail in the Florina; but as I had kept the books up square, I did not feel that I had done anything to incur his displeasure.



"I only did it for practice, sir," I repeated, in excuse for my wicked conduct.

"Did Mr. Collingsby tell you to do that?"

"No, sir; he never said a word to me about it."

"Have you shown it to him?"

"No sir; of course not. There is something wrong about it. You understand these things so well that I suppose you can tell me at a glance just what the matter is."

"Perhaps I can," he added, glancing at my sheets. "What's the matter with it?"

"I make it out that the concern has lost about ten thousand dollars in the last six months' business. Of course that can't be so."

"Certainly not; and that shows the folly of boys like you meddling with what you don't understand," said he, sourly, and in a more crabbed tone than he had ever before used to me.

I had expected to be commended for the zeal I had shown in my efforts to master the details of the business, instead of which I found myself sharply reproved. I had made a failure of my purpose to get out a correct trial balance, and this was sufficiently mortifying without the reproach the junior partner cast upon me. I hung my head with shame while he glanced over the trial balance, which, according to my father's system, included the balance sheet. I supposed his practised eye would promptly detect my error.

"What's the matter with it?" said he, petulantly.

"There is something about the invoices that I don't understand; but I suppose it must be because I am so thick-headed," I replied, with becoming humility.

"With the invoices?" added he, with a kind of gasp which attracted my attention.

I glanced at him, and I observed that his face was deadly pale. His lip quivered, and he appeared to be very much agitated. I was astonished at this exhibition on his part, and while I was considering whether he was angry with me or not, he walked away and drank a glass of ice water at the table. I had seen him turn very pale when he was angry, and I was afraid I had mortally offended him by my innocent zeal.

"What's the matter with the invoices, Phil?" he asked, returning to the desk with a sickly smile upon his pallid face.

"I don't know that anything is the matter with them, sir. I suppose I have made a blunder," I replied, stammering with confusion, for the situation was entirely new to me. "The May invoice of the Michigan Pine Company foots up on the book about fifteen thousand dollars, but the bill on file shows only five."

"You have made a silly blunder, Phil," laughed he; but still his lip quivered.

"I supposed I had, sir; and I only wanted to know where my mistake was."

"There is only one little trouble with you, Phil. You think you know a great deal more than you do know."

"I suppose you are right, sir. I thought I knew how to make out a trial balance and balance sheet; but I find I don't, though I have done it a dozen times under my father's direction."

"These make-believe accounts are not like real ones," added Mr. Whippleton, sagely.

"I see they are not."

"I suppose you read a check mark, or something of that kind, for a one, in the invoice book."

"I should suppose so myself, sir, if the cash book and check book did not both show that the fifteen thousand dollars was paid to the Michigan Pine Company."

"Is that so?" said he, startled again. "I must have left those invoices at my room. I had them there one evening."

"Perhaps you have some others there," I suggested quietly, in my ignorance; "for the invoice book shows about forty thousand dollars' worth of lumber for which there are no bills."

"They must be at my room; I will bring them down," he added, turning away from me.

"They were not entered in the lumber book either," I added; "so, I suppose, if I add forty thousand dollars to the stock item it will come out right."

Mr. Whippleton had dropped into a chair, and looked paler than ever.



CHAPTER X.

IN WHICH PHIL IS PERPLEXED ABOUT CERTAIN INVOICES.

"What's the matter, sir? Are you sick?" I asked, startled by the deadly pallor on the cheeks and lips of the junior partner.

"I don't feel very well, but I shall be better in a moment," he replied, faintly.

"What shall I do for you?"

"Nothing, Phil; I feel better now. I'm subject to these ill turns in the summer. I shall be all right in a few minutes. I'll bring down those invoices to-morrow. I bought my boat last year, hoping to cure myself of them by using exercise in the fresh air."

I waited a few minutes, and he recovered in a great measure from the sudden attack; but he was still pale, and appeared to be very nervous.

"The doctor told me if I attended to business so closely, I should break down altogether," he continued, rising from his chair.

"Well sir, I hope you will take a vacation, then," I answered, full of sympathy.

"I can't do it; that's the trouble. I hoped I should be able to take my trip round the lake this summer, but I don't see how I can do it. I have to do all the buying for the concern, and attend to all the finances. Mr. Collingsby, you know, really does nothing. The whole establishment rests on my shoulders, and I find I am yielding under the heavy load."

"I hope I shall soon be able to do more to help you," I replied.

It had occurred to me that the concern had been running itself for several weeks, for Mr. Whippleton had not been in the office half the time. I supposed, therefore, from what he said, that he was buying lumber, or attending to the finances of the establishment, in his absence, for he appeared to have injured his health very seriously. From "the speech of people," and from an occasional remark he dropped himself, I had learned that he was engaged in land speculations, but I was not willing to believe that these could add very much to his work.

"You have done very well, Phil," said he, kindly. "You have been faithful, and you have kept your books remarkably well; but taking a trial balance isn't your forte yet."

"I know I'm stupid, sir."

"Far from it, Phil. I never knew a young man of your age who had so deep an insight into the science of accounts as you have; but you can't do everything at once."

"Thank you, sir; you are very kind. Perhaps the taking of trial balances is not my forte; but it seems to me that those invoices, when you bring them, will make it all right. Forty thousand dollars added to the stock will leave a balance of thirty thousand in favor of the concern."

"Very likely you are right, after all, Phil. Indeed, I think you must be. You are always correct about everything."

"O, no, sir; I don't pretend to be always correct, but I try to be so," I replied, blushing at the compliments showered upon me.

"But, Phil, you should not attempt to do what you don't understand."

"I thought I was perfectly competent to make out a trial balance, sir."

"Undoubtedly you are. It isn't that," he interposed, with a pleasant smile. "There are certain details of the business which you don't understand, and you can't make out a correct trial balance without including those details."

"I supposed I understood all about the business, and perhaps it would have come out all right if I had only had those invoices."

"I don't know how that might have been. But suppose Mr. Collingsby had seen your statement, that the firm had lost ten thousand dollars in six months."

"I did not intend to show it to him."

"Still he might have seen it. You might have left it on the desk, and a single glance at it would have alarmed him, when, you can see for yourself, the business is paying a large profit."

"I made the statement only for you, and I showed it to you in order to have my blunder pointed out."

"You did perfectly right, Phil, but an accident might have happened," said he, walking to the desk where my sheets were still lying.

He picked them up, tore them into a great many pieces, and threw them into the waste basket.

"At the end of the year we will make out a trial balance together," he added.

I did not like to see the result of so much hard labor destroyed; especially as, by Mr. Whippleton's own showing, the figures would be correct when he produced the missing invoices. But I had my rough draft, which I had carefully copied, in the desk, and I intended to carry this home, in order to ascertain at some future time whether my figures were correct or not. When I obtained the invoices I could tell whether I had made a failure or not in the act of taking a trial balance. I was not satisfied that I was so utterly stupid as my employer made me out to be.

"Those bills ought to have been entered on the lumber book," said I, when the junior partner had disposed of my papers.

"That's of no consequence at all. The lumber book is a humbug," he replied; "I don't believe in it; indeed, I had even forgotten that there was any such book. The firm don't recognize it, and I think it is liable to lead us all into blunders and errors, as it has you."

He went to the other side of the desk, where the objectionable volume lay, turned over its leaves, and glanced at its pages. He was still very nervous, for the effects of his sudden attack of illness appeared not to have left him.

"No reliance whatever can be placed on this book, and I am disposed to destroy it."

"I thought it was a very good thing. Faxon uses it a great deal, and says he can tell what stock he has on hand, when a customer comes, without going out of the counting-room."

"It is not reliable. The only way to know what stock we have is by looking it over."

Very likely he would have destroyed it if Mr. Collingsby had not called him into the private counting-room at this moment. He evidently had a hearty grudge against the book, which I thought was entirely groundless.

"Mr. Whippleton don't think much of your lumber book," said I, when the head salesman came in a moment later.

"Why, what's the matter with it?" asked the man.

"He says it is not reliable."

"I think it is; and since I adopted it, two or three other concerns have kept one like it, after asking me about it. What's the reason it isn't reliable?"

"You may neglect to enter invoices or sales."

"Your ledger wouldn't be good for anything if you neglected to carry all your items to its pages."

I was about to specify more particularly that the firm had about forty thousand dollars' worth of stock on hand more than appeared in the lumber book, when Mr. Whippleton returned. He evidently understood what I was doing, and told me to make up the bank account.

"You needn't say anything to Faxon about his book. Let him keep it, if he wishes to do so," said he.

"I did say something to him."

"You did? What did you say?"

"I only told him you didn't think his book was reliable."

"That's no more than the truth, but you need not mention the matter again. It will only make unpleasant feeling. Smooth it over if he says anything more about it, and let the matter drop."

I was rather puzzled, but I went on with the bank account.

"And by the way, Phil, you needn't say anything to Mr. Collingsby about those invoices," he added, a little while after.

"I shall not be likely to do so. He hardly ever speaks to me, and I never do to him, unless it is to answer a question."

"He's very fussy and particular. It was careless in me to leave those papers at home, but it is all right now. This is a fine day, Phil, and we will take a sail about four o'clock if you like."

I did like; I always liked to take a sail. I had been with him a dozen times already, and had been promoted to the position of able seaman on board, for I had taken the helm, and actually worked the boat alone for hours at a time. I had been out with the junior partner in some pretty heavy blows, and enjoyed them too. In fact, I considered myself as competent to handle the Florina as I was to make out a trial balance. I looked into the theory of sailing a boat, and understanding the principles, I found the practice easy.

After the business of the day was done, we embarked, and sailed with a stiff breeze to the head of the lake. Mr. Whippleton was more than usually kind and considerate, but he appeared to be thoughtful and troubled. He gave me the helm, and went into the cabin as soon as we were out of the river. He sat at the table, with a pencil and paper, and seemed to be absorbed in some difficult calculation.

At dark we were off Indiana City. I reported to Mr. Whippleton, and he came on deck. He told me to come about, and I did so without any assistance from him. He talked a little about the business of the firm, but soon relapsed into silence. His manner was somewhat strange, but I attributed it to his ill health. We had an abundant supply of provisions on board, such as crackers, sardines, lambs' tongues; and we usually took our supper on board, as we did not return to the city till nine or ten. Sometimes we cooked ham and eggs, beefsteak, or a mutton chop, and made coffee. I was cook and steward generally, but this time my employer brought up some eatables, and we took our supper in the standing-room. I noticed that he had no appetite, and I was really afraid that he would be seriously ill.

The next day I carried home all the papers relating to my trial balance, and locked them up in my valise. Mr. Whippleton staid in the counting-room all day for the next week, but nothing more was said of my unfortunate attempt to prove my zeal. He did not, however, bring the missing invoices, and I ventured to mention the matter again. He had forgotten all about them, but would attend to it the next day.

Another week elapsed before he produced them. I looked them over, and they appeared to be correct. They were in the ordinary forms, with the printed headings of the establishments at which the lumber had been purchased. As soon as he gave them to me I took up the lumber book.

"You needn't enter them on that book, Phil," said the junior partner; "I don't believe in that book, and I won't have anything to do with it. File them away, and don't say anything about them to any one."

Of course I obeyed my orders, but I confess that I began to think something was wrong. The Whippleton idea of honesty was not very high. The cash amounts of these invoices had been paid, and I supposed the lumber had been received in the yard. But Mr. Whippleton was a partner in the concern, and he could not mean to cheat himself. My curiosity was excited, but as a clerk I had no right to meddle with what did not concern me.

When I went to bed that night I could not sleep, for my mind would dwell upon the mysterious invoices. I heard the clock on a church strike twelve, and still I was awake. A few minutes later I heard a knock at my door. Mrs. Whippleton had been sick for a week, and I found that the summons came from her nurse. The landlady was worse, and she wanted to see me at once. I hastily dressed myself, and went to her.

"Phil, I know you are honest; everybody says so. I want to see you," said she, as I entered.

I could not imagine what my honesty had to do with the matter, but I waited for an explanation.



CHAPTER XI.

IN WHICH PHIL TAKES CHARGE OF MRS. WHIPPLETON'S EARTHLY TREASURE.

I had not seen Mrs. Whippleton for a week, during which time she had been confined to her room, and I was surprised at the change which had taken place in her during that time. She appeared to have lost one half of her flesh, and her face was very thin and pale.

"I didn't like to call you up at this time of night, Philip, but I wanted to see you very bad," said she, in feeble tones. "I'm a very sick woman."

"I hope you will get better," I answered.

"I hope so too, but there's no knowin'."

"I didn't know you were very sick."

"Perhaps I hain't been till to-day. The doctor looked kind o' anxious to-night when he came; and I've been a good deal worried."

"You must be calm, Mrs. Whippleton."

"I try to be, but I can't; and I don't think anybody could in my situation. I don't know but I'm goin' to die."

"Let us hope not. But I trust you are prepared to die," I added, with due solemnity; for I confess that the dreadful thing about her case was the idea of being hurried into eternity with only the worldly wisdom she had preached to me to sustain her in the trying ordeal.

"No, I'm not prepared to die. I've got thirty thousand dollars—"

"I wouldn't trouble myself about money, Mrs. Whippleton," I interposed.

"That's what I wanted to see you for," said she, looking at me with apparent astonishment.

"Do not think of business while you are sick, Mrs. Whippleton."

"But I must think of it. I have felt so bad today, that I didn't know as I should get well."

"So much the more need, then, of thinking of other things than money."

"I suppose you think I'm a very great sinner," she added.

"We are all sinners, Mrs. Whippleton; and we are all great sinners."

"Well, I ain't any worse'n the rest on 'em. But I don't want to talk about them things now. I've got somethin' else on my mind. I've got thirty thousand dollars—"

"But I would not think of that now."

"I must think on't. It worries me. I know you are an honest young man, Philip; and I can't say that I know of another one in the whole world."

"That's a harsh judgment; but if I am honest, it is because I believe in God and try to do his will."

"I suppose you are right, Philip. I wish I was better than I am; but as I ain't, 'tain't no use to cry about it. I didn't send for you to preach to me, though I hain't no kind o' doubt I need it as bad as any on 'em. Ever since I fust see you in the steam car I believed you was honest, and meant to do just about what's right. Set up a little closer to me, for I don't want to tell the world what I'm goin' to say to you. I believe I can trust you, Philip."

"I always try to do what is right, and I have no doubt I succeed better than those that don't try at all," I replied, finding that it was useless to attempt to talk to her of anything except money and business; though I hoped, when these important topics were disposed of, that she would be reasonable on matters of more consequence.

Certainly her appearance was very much altered, and she spoke of dying. Young as I was, I had already been in the presence of death, and I thought that matters of the soul's concern ought to be attended to before anything else.

"You knew that my son Charles has been here to-night?" continued Mrs. Whippleton.

"No, I have not seen him."

"He was; and he has been here every night for a week, pestering me almost to death, when I'm sick. He's fretting what little life there is left to me out of my body."

"Why, what's the matter with him?"

"He wants money—all I've got in the world, if I'll give it to him. He says he shall be ruined if he can't get it."

"Indeed!"

"I don't know nothin' about it, but he says something's wrong in the firm. He wants forty thousand dollars, and must have it, or be ruined and disgraced. Don't you tell a soul what I'm saying to you, Philip."

A flood of light was suddenly cast in upon my perplexed understanding. Forty thousand dollars! That was about the amount of the mysterious invoices. After this revelation I had no difficulty in believing that Mr. Whippleton had been using the money of the firm in his private land speculations. The invoices were fictitious, and this explanation showed me why the junior partner did not wish me to mention them to any one. I even thought I comprehended the nature of Mr. Whippleton's sudden illness when I showed him my trial balance. Now he was trying to get the money from his mother to make good his accounts with the firm.

I was grieved and amazed at the revelation thus forced upon me. I understood the old lady's principles, or rather her want of principles, and granting that she had given him her code of worldly wisdom, as she had to me, it was not strange that he should turn out to be a thief and a swindler. However hard and disgusting it may seem, there was something like poetic justice in his coming to her upon her sick bed, perhaps her dying bed, to demand the means of repairing his frauds. I pitied my landlady in her deep distress, but surely worldly wisdom could produce no different result.



"See here, Philip," she continued, raising her head with difficulty from the pillow, and taking from beneath it a great leather pocket-book, distended by its contents. "There's seven thousand dollars, besides notes and bonds for twenty-three thousand more, in it."

"Why do you keep so much money in the house, Mrs. Whippleton? It isn't safe."

"I know that; I had it in the bank till Charles began to pester me, and then I drew it all out the very day I was taken sick."

"But it was safe in the bank."

"No, 'twan't. I was afraid Charles would forge a check and draw it."

"He wouldn't do such a thing as that."

"I hope he wouldn't, but I was afraid he would. This pocket-book was in that bureau drawer till Charles came to-night. He went there and tried to get it. I don't know but he would have got it if my nuss hadn't come in. He said he was coming again to-morrow morning, and would have the money; so I got up, and put the pocket-book under my pillow."

"Certainly he wouldn't take it away from you," I added, shocked at the old lady's story.

"I don't know's he would, but I was afraid on't."

"But you haven't forty thousand dollars here."

"There's the bonds, which will sell for all they cost me, and more too, besides the interest on 'em; and it would all come to over thirty thousand. Charles offers to give me a mortgage on his lands worth three times the amount, and pay me ten per cent. interest besides."

"Why don't you do it, then?"

"I don't believe in his lands. Because folks say he's got bit in his lands, and can't sell for what he gin for 'em, though he says they will fetch three times what they cost him. If they'd fetch what he gin for 'em he'd sell 'em. I almost know he's got bit on 'em. But he can't have my money; he owes me ten thousand dollars now. I've worked hard for what little I've got, and I ain't a goin' to have it fooled away in no land speculation."

It seemed to me that the old lady understood her son's case perfectly; and my own observation fully confirmed her statement. The junior partner was certainly in a tight place.

"My two married daughters, that need the money more'n Charles does, would never get a cent of my property if I should let him have it. I ain't a goin' to do it, not if I should die afore mornin'."

"I don't think you are in any immediate danger, Mrs. Whippleton," I replied; and I did not believe that one who could talk as fast as she did was in any present peril.

"But Charles will pester the life out of me to get this money and these papers. I'm afraid he's been doin' something that's wrong."

"What do you wish me to do for you?"

"I'll tell you, Philip. I know you're honest, and I will trust you just as far as any human bein' can be trusted," she continued; but she paused again, and I concluded that she was not quite satisfied to trust even me.

"You believe I can trust you—don't you?" she added, taking the valuable package from under the bed-clothes.

"You must be your own judge, Mrs. Whippleton."

"I know I can!" she exclaimed, suddenly. "You would not rob a poor woman who is on her dying bed."

"I certainly would not."

"At any rate, I know Charles would rob me of every dollar I have in the world, and think he was smart to do it; but I don't believe you would," said she, extending the package towards me.

"What do you wish me to do with it?" I replied, taking her treasure—her only treasure, it seemed to me, either in earth or in heaven.

It was only the treasure where thieves break through and steal; and the thief was at hand—one whom she had trained up in the ways of worldly wisdom.

"I don't know; only put it where Charles can't get it; that's all."

"But I have no safe place for it."

"You can put it somewhere. I feel better now it is out of my hands," she added, with a deep sigh.

"Really, Mrs. Whippleton, I can't take charge of this. I am afraid it would make me as miserable as it has you."

"You must take it, Philip. You are the only honest man I know of. Keep it safe, and when I'm gone,—if I'm goin' this time,—don't give it to anybody but my administrator."

"I don't like to take it, Mrs. Whippleton."

"That's the very reason why I want you to take it. If you was more willing, I shouldn't be so anxious to give it to you. I know you'll be careful of it."

"I will tell you what I will do with it, if you are willing. I want to go to St. Louis to see my father. If Mr. Whippleton will let me off to-morrow, for a few days, I will go then. I will seal up the package, and my father will keep it in his safe."

"Is your father honest?"

"He is."

"He must be if he is your father. Do as you think best. If he can put the money out at interest for me, I should like it all the better."

"Very well. I will give you my receipt for this package, and that will at least be evidence that I took it, and at your request."

I put the treasure in my pocket, and then led the conversation into another channel. I tried to awaken in her mind an interest in that other treasure, where thieves do not break through nor steal; but she was tired, and said she wanted to rest. She had talked so much that she was all worn out. She was a sad spectacle to me, and though she had gathered together a considerable fortune, it seemed to me that her life was a failure; she had not realized the true success.

I went to my room, opened the package, and made out a list of all the valuable papers which it contained. I wrote a receipt for them and for the money, and then, with the treasure under my pillow, I went to sleep. The next morning I called upon the old lady, and gave her the receipt. The nurse thought she was better, and said she had slept very well after I left her. Mrs. Whippleton told me she was willing to pay my expenses to St. Louis, and I might take the money for the purpose from the package.



CHAPTER XII.

IN WHICH PHIL VISITS THE HOUSE OF MR. COLLINGSBY, AND SEES MISS MARIAN.

I went to the counting-room at an early hour. My first care was to tie up the valuable package, which I had brought with me, in thick paper, and to seal it very carefully. I wrote my own name upon it, and then placed it in one of the drawers of the safe, the key of which was kept in the desk. I hoped to obtain permission, when Mr. Whippleton came to the counting-room, to visit St. Louis, especially as business was not as driving as usual. I did all my routine work, and the junior partner had not arrived. I was not anxious to see him for any other purpose than to obtain leave of absence. Indeed, the idea of meeting him was very embarrassing. After what his mother had said, I was satisfied that Mr. Whippleton had been using the funds of the firm in his own private speculations. It was evident that he had appropriated no less a sum than forty thousand dollars, which was represented by the fictitious invoices. I did not believe that he intended to purloin the money, but would replace it when his land speculations yielded their returns. Mr. Collingsby never examined the books thoroughly, and was not likely to discover the fraud. I knew all about it, and it suddenly flashed upon my mind that it would be wrong for me to be a party to a concealment.

I was not employed by Mr. Whippleton alone, but by the firm. My obligations were to both the partners; and though Mr. Collingsby never took any notice of me, my duty to him was just as urgent as to the junior. The thought startled me. My soul revolted at the idea of any treachery to Mr. Whippleton, who had always been very kind to me. But on the other hand, my moral sense revolted at the thought of concealing his fraud. I was troubled by the situation.

Mrs. Whippleton did not believe that her son's enterprise in real estate was a success. In her own words, he "had been bitten." It seemed to me that, in the end, there must be a fearful explosion. As I had the whole charge of the books now, I did not see how I could avoid any complicity with the fraud. In fact, I had already discovered it. I felt that I had a duty to perform, and that, if I exposed the junior partner, he, and not I, would be guilty of his fall. Was it meanness, ingratitude, or treachery in me to put Mr. Collingsby on his guard? If I could save Mr. Whippleton, I wished to do so. It was plain that he had come to a realizing sense of his danger, and was persecuting his mother to obtain the means of making good his deficit. But all the old lady's money would not cover the deficiency, and it was also impossible for him to obtain it. He had falsified the books, and he could not undo that.

If I continued to cover up Mr. Whippleton's error, I became a party to it. He was a bad man, and I could not fail to see my duty. I must inform Mr. Collingsby of what I had discovered. But though my duty was clear, my inclination rebelled. The junior partner had been kind and considerate; the senior, lofty and distant. It seemed almost like betraying my friend. While I was still considering the matter, Mr. Whippleton came in. I had not reached any conclusion, except that I would not be a party to the fraud by concealing it.

"Phil, do you know where Mr. Collingsby lives?" said the junior partner, while I was still in this state of doubt and uncertainty.

"I do, sir."

"I wish you would go up and show him this list of lumber," continued Mr. Whippleton, who seemed to be very much excited, and was very pale. "Tell him I can buy the lot at a very low figure if I can pay cash at one o'clock to-day."

"I wish you would send Robert," I replied, alluding to the new entry clerk. "I want to speak to you about the books."

"Never mind the books," he answered. "I want you to go, for you can tell him all about the cash of the concern. I heard just now that he was not very well, and probably would not be here to-day."

By this time I had made up my mind what to do, and the conclusion seemed to afford me the means of escaping both horns of the dilemma into which I was plunged. I glanced at the memoranda which Mr. Whippleton handed to me, and I saw that about twenty-five thousand dollars would be required to make the purchase he contemplated. Our cash balance in the bank was about six thousand, and Mr. Collingsby was expected to furnish the rest. I did not care to go to the senior partner upon such an errand, for I was afraid that the transaction the junior meditated might include another fictitious invoice.

"Well, will you go?" demanded Mr. Whippleton, while I was looking at the list.

"I would rather not, sir," I replied.

"What!"

"I have come to the conclusion that I should resign my place here," I replied, finding that nothing but plain speech would answer my purpose.

"Resign!" exclaimed he.

He was paler than ever, and my words evidently startled him.

"What do you mean by that? Are you not satisfied with your salary? If you are not, I will give you ten dollars a week, or twelve, or more, if you desire."

"My salary is quite satisfactory."

"And you are engaged for a year."

"I know I am, but I hope you will let me off."

"No; I will not. This is a shabby trick, after I have taken the trouble to break you in, and you know our books perfectly."

"I'm afraid I know them too well," I replied.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked; but he dropped into a chair, apparently faint, as he had been on the preceding occasion.

"I believe in being fair and square, Mr. Whippleton. There is something wrong about the books."

"Nonsense, Phil. That is only because there are some things about the business which you don't understand."

"I want to go to St. Louis this afternoon to see my father."

"Very well; you can go. You can be absent a week, if you wish. Haven't I used you well, Phil?"

"You have, sir,—very well, indeed; and I am grateful to you for all your kindness."

"Then why should you leave? If you wish to see your father, go to St. Louis for a week or two. Your salary shall be paid just the same as though you were here."

"Thank you, sir; you are very kind, and you always are."

"Then why do you want to leave me?"

"It is because you have always used me well that I wish to go. I am afraid my trial balance was more correct than I supposed at the time."

"What do you mean, Phil?" demanded he, springing to his feet with sudden energy.

"Whether right or wrong, sir, I believe that you have taken about forty thousand dollars out of the concern without the knowledge or consent of your partner."

"Why, Phil!"

He dropped into his chair again, and I was satisfied that I had hit the nail on the head. He gasped and trembled, but, fortunately for him, we were alone in the counting-room.

"I have spoken just what I think, sir; but I hope I am mistaken."

"You are mistaken, Phil; most tremendously mistaken. I like you, Phil; if I did not, I should kick you out of the counting-room without another word. But I believe you mean to be honest, and that you have made an honest blunder, though it is a very stupid one."

"Certainly the lumber included in those invoices you brought down from your rooms was never entered in the lumber book."

"Confound the lumber book! Never mention the thing again to me! I have told you that no reliance whatever can be placed upon it. I can convince you of your mistake in one hour."

"I shall be very glad to be convinced."

"But we haven't the hour now to look up the matter. I will explain it all to you this afternoon, and then, if you are not satisfied, I will let you go, and pay you a year's salary, besides."

"I only want to know what became of the lumber billed to the firm in those invoices," I answered, not at all satisfied with his proposition.

"I will show you this afternoon. Now, go up to Mr. Collingsby's and do my errand. The firm may lose a good bargain, if I miss this trade."

I concluded to go to the senior partner's. I inquired particularly in regard to the lumber Mr. Whippleton purposed to buy, but all the junior said assured me that he was preparing for another movement. I took the list, and a memorandum of the cash balance in the bank, and left the office. Somehow, in spite of myself, I felt guilty. Even my resolve to leave the service of the firm did not satisfy me. It would only leave the senior partner to be swindled still more. I hastened to the house of Mr. Collingsby, which I had never entered. I rang the bell, and was admitted to the entry, where I was required to wait till the senior partner could be informed of my desire to see him.

"It's a magnificent day to sail," said a gentleman in the parlor, near the door of which I stood.

I recognized the voice of Mr. Waterford, the owner of the yacht which was the twin sister of the Florina. He was generally called, by those who knew him, Ben Waterford. He was reputed to have made a fortune in real estate speculations, and was a young man of fine personal appearance. I had often seen him when out sailing with Mr. Whippleton. My own impression was not very favorable; for I regarded him as not only rather fast, but as lacking in moral principle. As he spoke he walked towards the door, and I saw that he was with a young lady of seventeen or eighteen, a very beautiful and a very elegant girl in style and manner.

"I should be delighted to go," said she; "but you give me very short notice. You wish to leave in an hour."

"Of course we will wait till you are ready, Miss Collingsby."

It was the daughter of Mr. Richard Collingsby, and I had heard that her name was Marian. Land Limpedon had rehearsed her charms to me, and with no little disgust had added that Ben Waterford was "waiting upon her." It seemed to me quite proper, therefore, that he should take her out to sail.

"I will endeavor to be ready in an hour," she added. "But who is going with you?"

"My sister and one or two others. We shall have a nice time. The lake is still, and it is a splendid day. We shall have a good dinner, and I know that you will enjoy it; only bring plenty of thick clothing, for it may be chilly before we return."

"I always carry plenty of clothing when I go upon the water. But you don't tell me who is going, Mr. Waterford."

"My sister and—"

"I never saw your sister. Is there any one I know?" asked Miss Collingsby.

"I have invited four, and they all said they would go if they could. It is short notice, but you see, Miss Collingsby, I never like to take out any ladies without being sure of the weather."

"You are very wise and prudent, Mr. Waterford," laughed the beautiful young lady; "I shall be there, for one."

"Thank you; then we shall be sure to have a pleasant time," added the skipper.

"But I shall not go unless some of the rest of the party appear. I will not go alone."

"Mr. Whippleton will be in the Florina, near us. We shall sail in company, and he will have a party in his boat."

The young lady very properly repeated her stipulation that others should join the party, and when the terms were duly arranged, Mr. Waterford left the house. Miss Marian glanced at me, and that was all. Probably she did not think I was worth noticing; but she changed her mind before night, for it so happened that I was one of the party in Mr. Waterford's yacht that day.

The servant showed me up stairs, where I found Mr. Collingsby comfortably sick in his arm-chair.



CHAPTER XIII.

IN WHICH PHIL LOOKS INTO THE OPERATIONS OF THE JUNIOR PARTNER.

As I went up the stairs, I did not see how Mr. Whippleton was to sail a party in his yacht on the lake, and still explain to me the difficulty about the books of the firm. But then, what had been so mysterious in the ways of the junior partner was now becoming more tangible. In solving the problem of the invoices, all the rest of the trouble seemed to be unravelled. Mr. Ben Waterford intimated that Mr. Whippleton was to sail his boat with a party on the lake within an hour or two. Perhaps he intended to complete his great purchase before that time.

I did not believe that he expected anything of the kind, however. I found myself very suspicious of Mr. Charles Whippleton. He had plundered the firm of a large sum of money, and it looked now as though he intended to enlarge his operations in this direction, rather than make good the deficit. I found it impossible to escape the responsibility of my position, and it pressed heavily upon me.



"Well, young man," said Mr. Collingsby, as I entered the chamber, where he was seated.

"Mr. Whippleton sent me to see you in regard to a transaction he wishes to complete this forenoon," I replied, producing my papers.

"Why didn't he come himself?"

I could not help thinking there was a great deal of force in this question, and it strengthened some vague resolves in my mind.

"I don't know, sir. He told me to show you this list of lumber, with prices," I continued, explaining more fully the errand upon which I had been sent.

"He should have come himself," added the senior partner, with a frown. "What is the balance in the bank?"

"About six thousand dollars," I replied, handing him the memorandum I had made.

"It ought to be thirty, if not fifty thousand. Don't you make any collections now?"

"Yes, sir; about the same as usual."

"There is something very strange in the business. I am asked to furnish twenty thousand dollars outside of the capital I have already invested in the firm. Tell Mr. Whippleton to come and see me immediately."

"I will, sir;" and I turned to go.

"Stop a minute, young man. What's your name?" interposed the senior.

"Philip, sir."

"Do you keep the books now, Mr. Philips?"

My dignified uncle did not even know my name, and had made a mistake which I did not think it necessary to correct, since he took so little interest in the matter.

"I do most of the work now, sir, on them," I replied.

"Have you any list of debts due the concern?"

"No, sir: there is none at the counting-room."

"It seems to me that proper attention is not given to the matter of credits and collections. We should have a much larger balance in the bank."

"Shall I tell Mr. Whippleton you wish to see him?" I replied, edging towards the door.

"Can you answer my question, Mr. Philips?" demanded the senior, sternly.

"I cannot, sir; Mr. Whippleton has charge of the finances. When credits have been given, they have been on time notes, which are paid as they mature," I answered.

"We had thirty thousand surplus capital on the first of January."

"Mr. Whippleton has laid in a large stock of lumber."

"And now wishes to increase it, after the best business of the year is over. I don't understand it."

"Nor I, sir."

"You don't?"

"No, sir; and since you have spoken to me about the matter, I wish to add that I think something is wrong."

"What do you mean, Mr. Philips?"

"I suppose I ought not to meddle with what does not concern me."

"Does not concern you! Are you not employed by the firm?"

"Yes, sir; but what the members of the firm do with their capital does not concern me."

"You said you thought something was wrong, Mr. Philips. What do you mean by that?"

"I made out a trial balance for the business of the last six months. Mr. Whippleton destroyed it."

I felt that I was doing my duty, and as briefly as I could, I told the whole story about the invoices. I saw that the senior partner was startled. And he understood where his balance was.

"Why didn't you speak to me of this before, Mr. Philips?"

"I have always talked with Mr. Whippleton about the books and the business. I did not feel at liberty to speak to you about it."

"You ought to have done so."

"Perhaps I ought, sir; but it was a very delicate matter, and Mr. Whippleton says now that it is all right. Perhaps it is, sir; I don't know. I only say I don't understand it."

"Neither do I. Something shall be done at once. Where are those invoices which you think are fictitious ones?"

"On file, sir."

"Send them to me at once. Stop. I will go to the counting-room myself," he continued, beginning to be excited, as he rose from his easy-chair.

"They have never been entered in the lumber book, sir."

"What's the lumber book?"

I explained what it was.

"Send Mr. Faxon to me. Send the invoices by him," continued the senior. "Perhaps I can look into the matter better here than at the counting-room."

I wondered that he even knew who Mr. Faxon was. A man who had so little knowledge of his own business as Mr. Collingsby almost deserved to be cheated out of his property.

"What shall I say to Mr. Whippleton, sir?" I asked.

"Tell him we will not increase our stock at any rate," he replied, decidedly. "Do you think Mr. Whippleton has been using the firm's money for his own purposes, Mr. Philips?"

"That is not for me to say, sir. Mr. Whippleton has always been very kind to me, and I dislike to say anything about this business."

"But, Mr. Philips, you are employed by the firm, of which I am the senior member. I furnished nearly all the capital—that is, my father and I together."

"I know it, sir; and I felt it to be my duty to speak, or I should not have done so. Of course I have drawn a catastrophe upon myself by what I have done."

"What's that?"

"Mr. Whippleton will hate me, and discharge me at once. I wished to resign this morning, but he would not allow me to do so."

"I'm glad he did not. If I find you have been mistaken, I shall say nothing about the matter to him. Mr. Faxon and the invoices will soon answer me one way or the other. I asked you if you thought Mr. Whippleton had been using the firm's money for his own purposes. You did not answer me."

"I think he has, sir. He is engaged in a large land speculation with Mr. Waterford."

"Waterford!" exclaimed the dignified senior. "He is no better than a swindler."

"Indeed!" I exclaimed, recalling the fact that I had just seen the subject of this harsh epithet making an appointment with the beautiful daughter of Mr. Collingsby.

"Perhaps I know him better than others; but no matter about him."

"He is a very wealthy young man," I suggested.

"No; he made a good thing of one or two speculations, and may possibly have twenty or thirty thousand dollars, if he hasn't sunk it in some of his mad schemes. I was foolish enough to indorse one of his notes without security. He is an unprincipled man; and if Whippleton has been operating with him, I am not surprised that he is in trouble. Now go, Mr. Philips, and send Mr. Faxon, with the invoices."

I bowed myself out, and hastened back to the counting-room, where I found Mr. Whippleton waiting my return with feverish impatience.

"What have you been about, Phil?" he demanded.

"Talking with Mr. Collingsby. He declines to have the stock increased, and don't approve your proposition."

"He is an idiot!" exclaimed the junior, with a savage oath. "What were you talking about all this time, Phil?"

"I answered the questions he put to me, and stated your proposition fully."

Mr. Faxon came in opportunely at this moment to save me from a more searching examination, and took his place at the desk. The junior partner was evidently vexed and disconcerted. He looked at his watch, and walked back and forth very nervously. In a few moments he went out. I took the mysterious invoices from the file, enclosed them in an envelope, and delivered Mr. Collingsby's message to the head salesman. It was very evident that an explosion could not be long deferred. Mr. Faxon would be able to inform the senior partner that the lumber mentioned in the fictitious invoices had never been received in the yard. The Michigan Pine Company had an agency in the city, and it would be a very easy matter to verify the principal bill, if it were a genuine one.

Mr. Whippleton soon returned. He looked more cheerful and satisfied than when he went out; but as he came near me, I smelt his breath, and found that his new inspiration was whiskey. He immediately sent me to settle with a building firm who had made large purchases, though he usually attended to this portion of the business himself. I was absent about an hour. When I returned, the junior partner was not in the counting-room.

"Where is Mr. Whippleton?" I asked.

"He went out about five minutes ago," replied the entry clerk.

"Did he say where he was going?"

"No; he drew a check, and left with that and a lot of other papers in his hand."

I took the check book from the safe, and found that he had drawn the entire balance, save a few dollars. I was alarmed. The crisis seemed to come sooner than I expected.

"What papers did he take?" I asked.

"I don't know what they were. He took a file from the safe, and looked it over for some time."

"Which file?"

"I don't know."

I went to the safe, and found that the notes receivable had been considerably deranged, for I had put them away with the nicest care. I satisfied myself that quite a number of them had been taken from the file. Mr. Whippleton was evidently raising a large sum of money. I placed the note book upon the table, and told the entry clerk to check off the notes as I read them. When we had finished this comparison, those not checked were the notes the junior had taken. They represented about thirty-two thousand dollars. At this moment he was, doubtless, raising the money on these notes.

What should I do? Mr. Whippleton was a villain! I concluded that he found it impossible to conceal his frauds much longer, and he was getting together all the money he could, in order to flee to some safer locality. He had persecuted his mother with a pertinacity which indicated a resolute purpose to do something. Now he had taken notes and cash to the amount of thirty-eight thousand dollars. I was no longer troubled with any scruples about exposing him, and I felt that I was hunting a villain.

I hastened with all speed to the house of Mr. Collingsby, and without waiting for the slow formalities of the ceremonious servant, I rushed up stairs to the chamber of the senior partner. I knocked, but I did not wait for a summons before I entered.

"I am glad you have come, Mr. Philips," said Mr. Collingsby. "You are entirely right. These invoices are fictitious. Mr. Faxon has been to the office of the Michigan Pine Company, and no such goods have been sold to our firm."

"I was pretty well satisfied on that point, sir; but the matter is worse than that. Mr. Whippleton has just checked out the entire balance in the bank, and taken away notes to the amount of thirty-two thousand dollars," I replied.

"The villain!" ejaculated Mr. Collingsby.



CHAPTER XIV.

IN WHICH PHIL MEETS WITH A SERIOUS CATASTROPHE.

"You have done wrong, Mr. Philips!" said the senior partner, with energy.

"I did the best I could, sir."

"No, you didn't. You ought to have spoken to me the moment you found anything wrong about the books."

"I was not sure that anything was wrong, sir. Mr. Whippleton said they were all right. When I found the invoices were missing, I spoke to him about them, and in about two weeks he brought them from his rooms."

"But you knew that the lumber of these invoices was not entered on the lumber book."

"Mr. Whippleton said he did not recognize the lumber book, and told me not to say anything to Mr. Faxon about them," I pleaded. "He was my employer, and I had to do what he ordered me to do."

"I'm your employer as much as he," protested the senior.

"That's very true, sir; but I never talked with you about the books or the business. You hardly ever spoke to me, sir."

"What has that to do with it, Mr. Philips?" demanded he, sternly.

"I did not feel at liberty to speak to you about your partner. Besides, sir, I hoped it would all come out right."

"You had no business to hope anything at all about it."

"I have done the best I knew how, sir. As you seem to be dissatisfied with me, I don't wish to have anything more to do with the matter. I told Mr. Whippleton I wanted to leave this morning. I am ready to go now."

"Go! Do you want to leave me now, when everything is in confusion?"

"Yes, sir; I want to leave if you are not satisfied."

"I'm not satisfied; but if you leave, I shall believe that you are a party to the villany that has been carried on in the counting-room. I thought you were on very intimate terms with Mr. Whippleton, your employer, sailing with him, and spending your Sundays on the lake with him."

"I never was in a boat with him on Sunday in my life, sir," I protested, vehemently.

"Well, he was out in his boat every Sunday, and I supposed, as you went with him at other times, you did on Sundays."

"No, sir; I did not. He was very kind to me, and I was grateful to him for it."

"You seem to be," sneered the dignified senior.

"He treated me with a kindness and consideration which I never received from his partner; and I shall always thankfully remember that, whatever else in him I may desire to forget," I replied, smartly, for I was cut to the soul by the cold and harsh words and manner of Mr. Collingsby, after I had exposed the rascality of his partner.

"No impudence, young man."

"I should like to leave at once, sir."

"You can't leave."

"I think I can, sir."

"If you do, I will send an officer after you. In my opinion, you and Whippleton have been altering the books to suit your own purposes."

"It looks so, after I have called your attention to these invoices—don't it, sir?" I replied, with becoming indignation.

"Why didn't you speak of them before, then?"

"Because I was not sure that anything was wrong till last night."

"Pray what did you discover last night?" asked the senior, with a palpable sneer.

"I discovered that Mr. Whippleton was very anxious to raise a large sum of money. This morning I told him squarely what I thought he had been doing, but he promised to convince me that it was all right this afternoon. But in spite of all he said, I told you about the invoices this forenoon."

"You didn't speak soon enough."

"While you are reproaching me, Mr. Whippleton is raising money on the notes of the firm."

"And you want to desert me!"

"I do, when I am accused of being concerned in his frauds."

"Perhaps I was hasty," added Mr. Collingsby, biting his lip. "I did not mean to say that you profited by his fraud."

"I think he has exposed the whole thing," said Mr. Faxon.

"We will consider this matter at another time. What's to be done?"

"Go to the banks, the bankers, and the brokers, and find Mr. Whippleton," I replied.

"Will you assist, Mr. Philips?"

"I will; but I should like to go to St. Louis to-night."

"We will see about that. Call a carriage for me, Mr. Faxon. Now, stop him, if you can. Have him arrested! The villain has swindled me out of seventy or eighty thousand dollars," continued Mr. Collingsby, bustling about the room, and apparently forgetting that he was a sick man.

Sore as I felt about the reproaches which had been so unjustly heaped upon me, I was interested for the welfare of the firm. I ran all the way to the two banks where we did our business. I was too late. At the two Mr. Whippleton had discounted about twelve thousand dollars' worth of the paper. I heard of him at several banks and offices, and as the notes of Collingsby and Whippleton were as good as gold in the market, he had no difficulty in negotiating them. Though I could not follow him everywhere that he had been, I was satisfied that he had turned the notes into cash. I could not find him, and I went to the counting-room for instructions, for I expected to find the senior partner there.

"Have you seen Mr. Whippleton, Robert?" I asked, when I found that the entry clerk was alone in the counting-room.

"He was here half an hour ago."

"Where is he now?"

"I don't know; he didn't say anything, but he had his overcoat on his arm."

"Has Mr. Faxon been in?"

"No; only Mr. Whippleton. What's the matter, Phil? Everybody seems to be in a stew to-day."

"There's an awful row brewing. What did Mr. Whippleton do?"

"He went to the safe, and looked over the pages of one of the books. What's the matter?"

"He has been using the money of the firm for his own speculations, and in my opinion he means to run away with all the cash he can put his hands on."

"Whew!" whistled the entry clerk.

"Didn't he hint where he was going?"

"No; he didn't hint that he was going anywhere; but I thought, from his having his overcoat, that he was going out in his boat."

It occurred to me that he would be more likely to leave the city in the Florina than by any other conveyance. He could sail in her when he pleased, and cover up his tracks very effectually. I promptly decided to visit the mouth of the river, where he kept his boat, and see if she was there. In the excitement of the morning, I had almost forgotten the treasure which Mrs. Whippleton had committed to my charge. I had put it into a drawer in the safe which was not in use. I had locked the drawer, and put the key with the others. I had sealed up the package, and written my own name upon it, so that I had no fear it would be taken by the junior partner. But he had exhibited a new phase of character on this eventful day, and I trembled as I unlocked the drawer. My fears were realized. The package was gone. Mr. Whippleton had taken it.

This was a serious catastrophe.

I felt like sinking through the floor when I realized the loss. If it had been my own I should have felt better. It was a sacred trust confided to me, and I reproached myself for putting it into the safe. Under ordinary circumstances, however, it would have been secure there. The treasure had been given to me in order to keep it from him into whose possession it had now fallen.

"What's the matter, Phil?" asked Robert, when he saw my grief and chagrin.

"I have lost a valuable package," I replied.

"Was it done up in white paper?"

"Yes."

"Mr. Whippleton took it from one of the drawers, and put it in his pocket."

"Did he open it?" I asked.

"No; not here."

I thought it was very strange that he should take a package, marked "private," with my name upon it. But nothing that he did could now be regarded as strange.

"When did he take it?" I inquired.

"Early this morning; as soon as you had gone to Mr. Collingsby's."

"The first time?"

"Yes; before nine o'clock."

It looked to me then just as though the villain knew the contents of the package.

"If Mr. Whippleton comes in again, Robert, don't lose sight of him for an instant. Follow him wherever he goes, if it is to the other side of the continent."

"Why—"

"Do as I tell you. I suppose Mr. Collingsby has the officers on his track by this time."

"You don't mean so!"

"Certainly I do; he has swindled the firm out of seventy or eighty thousand dollars; fifty, at least, after taking out his capital and profits. If Mr. Collingsby or Mr. Faxon comes in, tell him I have gone over to see where the boat is."

I rushed out of the counting-room almost frantic with excitement, for I confess that the loss of the package which had been specially committed to my care affected me much more deeply than the deficit of the junior partner. I hurried to the mouth of the river, and arrived there out of breath. The Florina was not at her moorings, and as I looked out upon the lake, I discovered her, at least three miles distant, running towards the Michigan shore. I had no doubt that the valuable package, and from thirty-five to forty thousand dollars of the firm's money, were in that light craft, which was flying so swiftly over the waves.

At the moorings lay Ben Waterford's boat; but her sails were loosed, and she seemed to be otherwise prepared for a cruise. As the current swung her round, I saw the name "Marian," in beautiful new gilt letters, upon her stern. It had been changed, doubtless, to suit the altered circumstances of her owner; but I sincerely hoped that Miss Marian would never become the wife of so reckless and unprincipled a man as I believed Ben Waterford to be.

"Here is your father's clerk. He will go with us," said a voice behind me.

I turned and saw Waterford attending Miss Collingsby. I had been tempted to take the Marian without leave or license, and give chase to the Florina; but I was too prudent to do so. The party of which I had heard Ben speak in the morning had not started at the time specified, and I judged, from the remark he made, that Miss Marian was carrying out her resolution not to go with him unless there was a party. I hoped they would not go, for I wanted to borrow the boat, and I applauded the young lady's firmness both for her own and my sake.

"Where is your sister?" asked Miss Collingsby.

"I don't know. She promised to be here an hour ago," replied Mr. Waterford. "Probably some friend has arrived, or something else has occurred to prevent her keeping her engagement. But here is Phil, your father's clerk. Won't you go if I take him?"

"I don't like to be the only lady," said she, looking upon the ground.

"We shall join Mr. Whippleton in a little while. He has two ladies on board with him—the Misses Lord."

"Florina?"

"Yes."

"Very well; if you can overtake Mr. Whippleton, and get Julia Lord to go with us, I shall be satisfied."

"Certainly; Julia will be very glad to sail with you."

"But the clerk must go."

That meant me; and as they intended to overtake Mr. Whippleton as soon as possible; the arrangement suited me. The junior partner of our firm was my "objective" just now, and I did not intend to lose sight of him until he had disgorged his ill-gotten gains.

"Will you go with us, Phil?" asked Ben Waterford, pleasantly.

"I shall be very happy to do so, if you will put me in the way of seeing Mr. Whippleton. I have very important business with him," I replied.

"We shall join him at once," added he, as he hauled the Marian up to the shore.

While he assisted Miss Collingsby to her seat, I hoisted the mainsail, and in a few moments we were standing out of the river.



CHAPTER XV.

IN WHICH PHIL GOES TO WORK IN THE COOK-ROOM OF THE MARIAN.

"All right, Phil; hoist the jib," said Mr. Waterford, as soon as we were out of the river.

I cleared away the jib and hoisted it, the skipper hauling aft the sheet, and trimming the sail. The wind was from the westward, rather light for one who was fond of a smashing time on the water, and it was one of the most perfect of summer days. The Marian was headed in the direction of her rival, which appeared to be working towards the south-east corner of the lake. My impression was, that Mr. Whippleton intended to land at this point, and take a train to the east. I was prepared to follow the instruction which I had given the entry clerk, and pursue the fugitive to the other side of the continent.



This boating excursion had been planned by Waterford and our junior partner, but of course it was not possible that the former knew the purposes of the latter; at least, such was my view of the matter at first, though I afterwards had occasion to change my mind. I was satisfied now, if I had not been before, that Mr. Whippleton meant to leave Chicago forever. He had done all the mischief in his power there, and to remain any longer would result in a mortifying exposure. Like other smart rogues, he had gathered together all he could, and was going to some distant locality to enjoy it.

Miss Collingsby had seated herself in the stern sheets of the boat, and was watching the waters that rippled under the counter. I thought she was not very well satisfied with herself for what she had done, and rather wished herself on shore again. If she knew her prudent and dignified father's opinion of Mr. Waterford, it would not have been strange that she was dissatisfied with herself.

"This is a magnificent day for a sail," said Mr. Waterford, gayly, as he glanced at his fair companion.

"Elegant," replied she, but in a tone which indicated that she was not in the full enjoyment of the sail or the day.

"Would you like to take the helm and steer, Miss Collingsby?"

"No, I thank you; not now."

"You enjoyed it so much when we sailed last time, that I thought you were cut out for a sailor."

"Half the pleasure of sailing is the company you have with you," added Marian.

"And you think you are losing one half of the pleasure of the present occasion?" said Mr. Waterford.

"I did not say that, but I did expect a lively party, as you told me you had invited half a dozen ladies and gentlemen."

"I did; and they all promised to come if it was possible," pleaded the skipper. "I am very sorry they did not, and that you are so much dissatisfied with your present company."

"Why, no, Mr. Waterford; I did not say that, and did not mean it," interposed Marian. "I only say that half the fun on the water is having a good lively party. You know what a nice time we had singing and chatting the last time we went."

"We had a pleasant time. I thought, from what you said, that you considered your present company rather disagreeable, and the excursion a failure."

"You know I did not mean any such thing as that, Mr. Waterford," said Marian, reproachfully. "You are very kind to invite me at all, and it is very ungrateful for me to say anything; but I do like a lively party."

"I am afraid it is only a selfish thing on my part," added the skipper, as he bestowed upon his beautiful companion a look of admiration, beneath which she blushed even as she gazed into the clear waters of the lake. "Phil," called he, turning to me.

"Here," I replied, springing up from my reclining posture on the forward deck.

"I wish you would hoist the new burgee. We ought to wear our gayest colors to-day."

"Where is it?"

"In the cabin after locker, starboard side. Run it up, if you please."

I went into the cabin, and found the flag. It was a gay affair, in bright colors, with the new name of the yacht inscribed upon it. I attached it to the halyards, and ran it up to the mast-head. Miss Collingsby took no notice of it, but continued to gaze into the water.

"What do you think of my new burgee, Miss Collingsby?" asked the skipper.

"It is very pretty indeed," she replied, with more indifference than it seemed quite polite to display. "It is as gay as the rest of the boat. You are fond of bright colors, Mr. Waterford."

"In a boat, I am. Do you see the name which is upon it?"

"Marian!" exclaimed she, after spelling out the name upon the flag. "What does that mean?"

"It is the name of the boat."

"Why, the last time I sailed in her, she was called the Michigan."

"That is very true, but she is called the Marian now," replied Mr. Waterford, trying to look very amiable and modest.

"That's my name."

"Certainly; and that's the reason why I gave it to my boat."

"Indeed, you do me a very great honor, and I am grateful to you for it."

"No; the honor is done to me, if you don't object to the name."

"Of course I cannot object to my own name."

"You may object to having it upon my boat."

"It is a very beautiful boat, and I am sorry you did not give it a better name."

"There is no better or prettier name in the whole world."

"I don't think so."

"I do," answered Mr. Waterford, with emphasis. "I was sick of the old name—the Michigan."

"Probably you will soon be sick of the new one—the Marian," added Miss Collingsby, still gazing into the water.

"Never!" protested the gallant skipper.

"I am afraid you will, as you were of the old one."

"Never, Miss Collingsby! Of course the name itself is but a word, but the association will cause me to cherish it forever."

"How very fine you talk, Mr. Waterford!"

"But I say just what I mean, and utter only what is nearest to my heart."

"It is a pity you were not a lawyer, for you always make out a very good case."

"I am afraid I should only succeed as a lawyer when I was interested in my client, as in the present instance."

"How long will it be before we overtake Mr. Whippleton?" asked Miss Collingsby, as though she deemed it prudent to change the conversation, which I thought was becoming just a little silly, as such talk always is to all but those who are immediately interested.

"That will depend upon which boat sails the fastest."

"You always said the Michigan—"

"No, the Marian," interposed the skipper. "Please to call the boat by her right name."

"Well, the Marian; you always said she was the fastest boat on the lake."

"I think so, though she has never had a fair trial with the Florina."

"I wish you would hurry her up, for I really wish to see Julia Lord, and have her in the boat with me. I suppose that neither Mr. Whippleton nor Florina will object to the transfer."

"Perhaps not. If any one has the right to object, I am the person," replied the skipper, in a low tone, though I heard what he said.

"You promised to provide me with company, or I should not have come," pouted Miss Collingsby, blushing.

"I hoped you would deem me sufficient company."

"Why, what impudence! I want the company of young ladies."

"But you don't object to my company—do you?"

"Certainly not, in your proper place, at the helm of the yacht."

Though I was not skilled at all in woman's ways, I thought the fair girl was struggling between two fires. She rather liked Mr. Waterford, on the one hand, and was very unwilling to commit herself by accepting any of his delicate attentions, or by appearing to be pleased by his compliments. In a word, I thought she liked him, but was afraid of him. He was, as I have before intimated, a very good-looking fellow, elegant and agreeable in his manners and speech. If he had been half as good as he looked, he would have been worthy the beautiful girl at his side. It was not very difficult for me to believe, after what I had heard her father say, that she had been warned against him, and that duty and inclination were struggling against each other in her mind.

"It is half past eleven, Phil," said Mr. Waterford, consulting his watch. "Shall we have any dinner to-day?"

"Certainly, if you desire it," I replied, presenting myself before the skipper in the standing-room.

"Whippleton says you are a cook, Phil. Is that so?"

"I can cook," I replied, modestly.

"Can you get up a dinner fit for a lady?" laughed Mr. Waterford.

"I can roast, bake, boil, broil, and fry. If the lady will be suited with any of these, I will do the best I can to please her."

"I thought you were my father's clerk," added Miss Collingsby.

"I am."

"How do you happen to know how to cook, then?"

"I was brought up on the upper Missouri, where we had to do our own cooking."

"Yes, Phil is a regular Indian fighter," laughed the skipper.

"What, this young man?"

"Yes, he has shot a thousand Indians in his day, and scalped them?"

"Phil?"

"Call it two or three," I added. "And we never were in the habit of scalping them."

"Don't spoil a good story, Phil."

"We used to speak the truth in the woods, even when we were joking."

"Well, don't be too severe on us. We only speak the truth here when we are addressing ladies."

"Just reverse the proposition, and it would be more correct," said Marian.

"What shall we have for dinner?" I asked.

"Miss Collingsby must settle that point," answered the skipper.

"Give us a fricandeau de veau, and beignets de pomme."

"Nous n'avons pas des pommes," I replied.

"Is it possible! Do you speak French?" exclaimed Miss Collingsby.

"Un peu."

"Of course I did not mean what I said," laughed the gay young lady. "I will have just what you happen to have. I did not think any one would understand what I said."

"I certainly did not," added Mr. Waterford. "I know no language but English, and only a little of that."

"I think I can make a fricandeau," I continued, "if I have the material."

"We have beef, ham, mutton, pork, potatoes, bread, cake, and crackers on board."

"Let us have a plain beefsteak, then," said the lady.

"Avec pommes de terre, frits?" I asked.

"Oui, Monsieur Cuisinier. What a prodigy you must be, Mr. Phil! You can keep books, cook, and talk French."

"And sail a boat as well as the best of them," added Mr. Waterford. "By the way, Phil, have you any of those things on board that you mentioned?"

"What things?"

"I don't know."

"Pommes de terre," suggested Miss Collingsby.

"You said we had. I haven't looked over the stores."

"I said so? Not if I was awake."

"You stupid!" laughed the lady. "They are potatoes."

"O, are they? Then we have plenty of them. They say that a rose by any other name smells as sweet; and I suppose a potato in any other language tastes the same. Very well. Get up a good dinner, Phil; one fit for a queen—for a queen is to eat it."

"How silly!" said Miss Collingsby, as I went below.

"Better and fairer than any queen."

"I declare, Mr. Waterford, you are becoming insufferable. I shall have to go down there and help Phil get dinner. Besides, I want to talk French with him. And I want to see the kitchen."

I passed through the cabin into the little cook-room, in the forecastle, where I lighted the fire.



CHAPTER XVI.

IN WHICH PHIL PROMISES NOT TO DESERT MISS COLLINGSBY.

If I had not been so anxious to overtake Mr. Whippleton, I should have enjoyed my occupation in the cook-room of the Marian much better. Being in a boat at all was a very pleasant thing to me; a place in the cook-room was still better; while a seat in the standing-room, with one hand on the tiller, in charge of the craft, was the most delightful recreation which the earth had yet presented me. The kitchen of the Marian was substantially the same as that of the Florina, where I had cooked a great many suppers. I knew where to find everything without being told, and I was at home at once.

In looking over the stores, I found what seemed to me to be a month's supply. I knew that Mr. Waterford had expected a party of half a dozen; but the provision lockers contained enough to dine a hundred. There was a great quantity of substantials, such as pork, ham, potatoes, and beef. I thought he had been very lavish for a party for a single day. The bin for charcoal, which was the fuel used in the stove, was filled full.

I selected a nice slice of beefsteak, and proceeded to cut up the potatoes I was to fry. I was soon very busy, and wholly absorbed in my occupation. I enjoyed it, and though it may not be the highest ambition to be a cook, it is a very useful employment. There is an art about cooking; and as I fried the potatoes, I thought it required just as much science as it did to keep a set of books. If I had had Mrs. Whippleton's treasure safe in my possession, I should have been superlatively happy. I cooked all the potatoes I thought would be required for dinner, even giving Miss Collingsby credit for an unfashionably good appetite. The tea-kettle was boiling, and I was just going to fill up the coffee-pot, when a shrill scream startled me, and dissolved the spell which the delights of my occupation had woven around me.

It was the voice of a lady, and of course it could be no other than that of our beautiful passenger. At first it occurred to me that the boom had swung over, and hit her upon the head; but the boat was still heeled over to the leeward, as she had been for the last hour; and I knew that the boom could not go over unless the boat came up to an even keel. Then it flashed upon me that either the skipper or his fair companion had fallen overboard. But I did not wait to discuss probabilities or possibilities; I hastened on deck, passing through the fore scuttle, which I had opened to give me air and light.

When I reached the deck, I was satisfied that the boom had not been the author of the mischief, and that neither of the parties had fallen overboard. The Marian still held her course towards the south-east, and the skipper and the lady were both in the standing-room, though not in the same position that I left them half an hour before. Mr. Waterford was at the helm, of course; but Miss Collingsby was seated as far from him as the limits of the seats would permit. I went aft, and saw that the fair young lady was very red in the face, and apparently very angry. I was puzzled at the situation, and quite unable to explain it.

"Is dinner ready, Phil?" asked Mr. Waterford.

"Not yet."

"Well, hurry it up. We are growing hungry," added the skipper; but I saw that his desire to get rid of me was greater than his appetite.

"I heard a scream here," I replied, determined not to be put out of the way, if my presence or my assistance was needed.

"No, you didn't. That was nothing. Miss Collingsby was singing on the high notes."

I glanced at her. She did not look cheerful enough to sing, but angry enough to touch the high notes, though not the melodious ones.

"I will go down and see you cook, Phil," said she, with a struggle to appear composed, though it was not a success.

I descended to the cabin, and turned to assist her down the steps.

"Stop a few moments, Miss Collingsby, if you please," interposed Mr. Waterford. "I wish to speak to you."

"I will come up again," she replied, leaping lightly upon the cabin floor.

"I am afraid you will find the cook-room rather hot for you," I added, as I led the way forward.

I opened the door into the kitchen, and gave her a seat within the cabin, where she could observe all that was done. I fancied, however, that she did not care much just then how beefsteak and sliced potatoes were cooked on board of a yacht, and that she only desired to escape from the presence of the gallant skipper.

I put the beefsteak upon the stove. I had set the table after preparing the potatoes, and I had nothing to do but watch the meat.

"That is a real nice little place, Phil," said Miss Collingsby; and her tones indicated that she had not yet recovered her self-possession.

"It is rather small, though it is as roomy as any yacht of this size can have."

"I think it is quite cool, with that scuttle open."

"I don't mind the heat; but I am used to it."

"Do you think we shall overtake Mr. Whippleton, Phil?" asked she, after a pause, during which I turned the steak.

"I don't think we have gained on her any yet," I replied.

"I don't believe he means to catch her," added my fair companion, with a very anxious expression.

"We are certainly following the Florina, though we are at least three miles from her. I don't think we shall overhaul her till she comes about, or makes a harbor."

There was another pause: and when I saw how anxious Miss Collingsby was, I could not help feeling a strong sympathy with her. The scream had not yet been explained to me; but I concluded that the gallant skipper had alarmed her by being too demonstrative in his attentions.

"Do you know where we are going?" she inquired.

"I do not; only that we are to join Mr. Whippleton."

"I wish I was on shore again," said she, with a sigh.

"Why?" I asked, in the simplicity of my heart; for I thought, if she was fond of sailing, that she ought to enjoy the trip, for certainly nothing could be pleasanter.

"I have been very imprudent. I ought not to have come," she replied, in a low tone.

"Did you scream?" I ventured to inquire, in a whisper.

"I did."

"What was the matter?"

"I have been very imprudent," she repeated, her face glowing with confusion.

"I hope he didn't harm you."

"O, no! He didn't mean to harm me; but he was impudent and insulting. I will never speak to him again, as long as I live!"

"Of course your father knew you were coming with Mr. Waterford."

"No; he did not; but my mother did. My father is very stern, and very particular, I suppose you know. He hates Mr. Waterford, while my mother thinks he is a very fine man. But my mother told me not to come with him unless there were other ladies in the party."

"He seems to have a very high regard for you," said I. "He has named his boat after you."

"But I have been very imprudent, Phil. I am afraid of Mr. Waterford."

"You need not be afraid of him. I will see that no harm comes to you, and that you return home safely."

"You are my father's clerk—are you not?"

"I am."

"I saw you at the house this morning; and I have heard that you were a very good young man. You will not let him harm me."

"Certainly not."

She was really terrified, though I could not see any good reason for her fears.

"You must be very watchful, too," she added.

"Why, what do you fear?"

"He means to get rid of you," she answered, her face crimson with blushes.

"To get rid of me!" I exclaimed.

"He said so to me. You will not expose my weakness, if I tell you all, Philip?" said she, the tears starting in her beautiful eyes; and really I felt like crying myself.

"Not a word, nor a hint," I protested.

"Mr. Waterford has been very attentive to me for a year; and I confess that I liked him. But my father said he was an unprincipled man."

"Your father was right."

"I fear he was. Mr. Waterford asked me, several weeks ago, to run away with him, and be married in some town on the other side of the lake. I was weak enough to listen to him, but not to accept his proposition. He repeated it to-day, and with some familiarity which frightened me, and made me scream. I never was so alarmed before in my life."

"What did he do?"

"He put his arm around me, and attempted to kiss me," said she, desperately. "Now you know the worst."

I did not think it was so bad as it might be, after she had encouraged him by listening to his proposals.

"He is a bad man. I begin to be of my father's opinion in regard to him."

"Mr. Whippleton is another bad man," I added.

"Mr. Whippleton! What, my father's partner?"

At the risk of letting the beef be burned, I told her briefly the history of the man, and that he was even then running from the officer, while I was in pursuit of him.

"Dear me! What will become of me!" she exclaimed.

"Don't be afraid of anything. I will protect you."

"But you don't know the worst!"

"Do you?"

"I think I do. He has decoyed me into this boat, and he means to get rid of you. He told me so. Then he will take me to some town on the lake, if he can persuade me to accept his proposal. Don't leave me, Phil! Don't let him get rid of you!"

"I will not."

"I think I understand him perfectly, now; and I feel very miserable to think I disregarded the instructions of my mother. He will persecute me till I consent to his proposal," continued the poor girl, wiping away her tears. "I shall depend upon you for my safety, Philip."

"I will not fail you, Miss Collingsby. I do not mean to lose sight of Mr. Whippleton, and I have no idea of being thrust out of the way," I replied, as I dished up the beefsteak, and put the plate on the table.

"Dinner is ready," I shouted, when I had placed the potatoes and coffee on the table.

My mission below for the present was accomplished, and I went on deck by the fore scuttle. I looked for the Florina as soon as I went up, and found that she had hauled her wind, and was standing towards the Illinois shore of the lake. The Marian had followed her example. I saw the former enter a creek soon after, where she disappeared from our view. I knew the locality very well, for I had been up the creek in the Florina with Mr. Whippleton. The mouth of it was a broad lagoon, which extends into a series of swamps.

"Take the helm, Phil," said Mr. Waterford, as I walked aft to the standing-room. "Is dinner on the table?"

"Yes, all ready."

"Head her into the creek, Phil, and we will land there," added he, as he went below, leaving me in charge of the yacht.

I could not help thinking that Miss Collingsby was more frightened than hurt. She was certainly a beautiful girl, and was sure to have a princely dowry when she was married. I could not blame Mr. Waterford for wanting her, and I was confident Mr. Collingsby would never consent to such a match. Without appearing to be suspicious, I intended to watch the skipper closely, and if he attempted to get rid of me, he would find it would take two to make that bargain.

Before the interesting couple in the cabin had finished their dinner, I ran the Marian into the creek. When the skipper came on deck, he immediately anchored the yacht, near the south bank of the lagoon. After I had eaten my dinner, he took the small boat, and wished me to go on shore with him, as Miss Collingsby declined to land.



CHAPTER XVII.

IN WHICH PHIL PUTS A CHECK ON THE OPERATIONS OF MR. BEN WATERFORD.

Mr. Waterford had anchored the Marian within a couple of rods of the shore, where there was a bank convenient for landing. He had simply lowered the jib, leaving the mainsail set, but with the boom hauled down to the traveller, to keep it from swaying. Miss Collingsby did not come on deck when she had finished her dinner, but sat in the cabin, apparently reading a book she had found there; but I think her mind was not interested in the contents of the volume.

"Come, Phil; will you go on shore with me?" repeated Mr. Waterford, after he had hauled the little tender alongside the yacht.

"I haven't cleared away the dishes yet," I replied.

"Never mind them now; there will be time enough for that when we return."

"But everything in the kitchen is just as I left it," I added.

"We shall not be absent more than ten or fifteen minutes."

"Can't you go alone?"

"No, but you can," he replied, with a winning smile, which was doubtless intended to lure me into the trap he had set for me. "There are some beautiful swamp flowers a short distance from the shore, and I wish to get a bouquet for Miss Collingsby."

"Can't one carry the bouquet alone?" I asked.

"You are a stout fellow; possibly you could," laughed he. "If you will go, I will tell you where to find the flowers."

"If you know, it would be better for you to go, and I will clear away the dinner things while you are gone."

"We must pull the tender out of the water when we land, and I don't think I can do it alone. I want to turn it over, and get the dirty water out of it, for it really is not fit for a lady to get into. Miss Collingsby says she is not afraid to stay alone for a few moments."

"Very well; if you will stay on board and put away the dishes, I will go on shore alone," I replied, moved to give this answer by a whispered suggestion from Miss Marian.

"All right; but can you turn the boat over alone?"

"Certainly I can; that boat don't weigh more than seventy-five pounds."

Miss Collingsby immediately came on deck, and went to the side where the tender was lying.

"I think I will go with you, Mr. Phil," said she. "I should like to see where the flowers grow."

"But that boat is not fit for a lady to get into in its present condition," interposed Mr. Waterford, annoyed by this new phase of our lady passenger's will.

"It will answer very well for me," she replied.

"Indeed, I cannot permit you to get into that boat; but if you wish to land, we will take it ashore first, and empty out the dirty water."

"O, no! I won't give you all that trouble," added she, retreating to the cabin again.

"I will go down and put out my fire, and then I shall be ready," I continued, following her below.

"Don't leave me, Phil," said Marian, earnestly, but in a low tone.

"If you will trust the matter to me, I will manage it right," I replied. "But I wish to let him have his own way for the present."

"But you see now that he wants to leave you on shore."

"I have no doubt of that; still I wish to go on shore with him. You may be assured that no accident shall happen to you," I answered, as I rattled the stove to convince the skipper that I was busy at the work I had come below to do.

"I am terribly alarmed. All Mr. Waterford's looks and, actions convince me that he means mischief."

"I know he does; he has fully satisfied me on that point. But will you leave the whole matter to me?"

"Yes; but do be very cautious."

"I shall go on shore with him."

"Then he may leave you there."

"No; he cannot do that. I will watch him; and I can swim off to the boat before he can hoist the jib and get under way. Trust me, Miss Collingsby."

"I do trust you; but he may deceive you."

"He will if he can. I cannot afford to be left here, for I have business with Mr. Whippleton for your father's sake, as well as my own."