"Well, Mr. Lynx," she asked, with interest, "have you heard anything of the glass?"

"I have seen it," was the quiet reply.

"Where?"

"At a well-known pawnshop on the Bowery."

"Did you learn who left it?" asked Mrs. Hamilton eagerly.

"A boy—about sixteen years of age—who gave the name of Ben Barclay."

"I can't believe Ben would be guilty of such a disgraceful act!" ejaculated Mrs. Hamilton, deeply moved.



CHAPTER XXVIII MRS. HILL'S MALICE

At this moment there was a low knock on the door.

"Come in!" said Mrs. Hamilton.

Mrs. Hill, the housekeeper, glided in, with her usual stealthy step.

"I really beg pardon for intruding," she said, with a slight cough, "but I thought perhaps I might throw light on the matter Mr. Lynx is investigating."

"Well?" said the detective, eying her attentively.

"I had occasion to go into Ben's room to see if the girl had put things in order, when my attention was drawn to a ticket upon the bureau. You can tell whether it is of importance," and she handed it, with an air of deference, to Mr. Lynx.

"What is it?" asked Mrs. Hamilton.

"It is a pawn ticket," answered Mr. Lynx attentively.

"Let me see it, please!"

Mrs. Hamilton regarded it with mingled pain and incredulity.

"I need not say," continued the housekeeper, "that I was surprised and saddened at this evidence of the boy's depravity. Cousin Hamilton has been so kind to him that it seems like the height of ingratitude."

"May I ask, madam," said Mr. Lynx, "if your suspicions had fastened on this boy, Ben, before you found the pawn ticket?"

"To tell the truth, they had."

"And what reason had you for forming such suspicions?"

"I knew that the boy frequented gambling houses, and, of course, no salary, however large, would be sufficient for a boy with such habits."

Mrs. Hamilton did not speak, which somewhat embarrassed Mrs. Hill. Mr. Lynx, however, was very affable, and thanked her for her assistance.

"I felt it my duty to assist Cousin Hamilton," said she, "though I am sorry for that ungrateful boy. I will now withdraw, and leave you to confer together."

Mrs. Hill would like to have been invited to remain, but such an invitation was not given.

"What do you think, Mr. Lynx?" asked Mrs. Hamilton.

"I think your housekeeper does not like Ben Barclay," he answered dryly.

"And you don't think him guilty?" she asked eagerly.

"No; the boy isn't fool enough, first, to give his own name at the pawnbroker's, and next, to leave the ticket exposed in his room."

"How then did it come there?"

Mr. Lynx was saved the trouble of answering by another tap on the door.

"Who is it now?" he said.

He stepped to the door, and opening it, admitted Susan.

"What is it, Susan," asked Mrs. Hamilton, in some surprise.

"Did Mrs. Hill bring you a pawn ticket, ma'am?"

"And what do you know about it?" demanded Mr. Lynx brusquely.

"And did she say she found it on Master Ben's bureau?"

"Yes, Susan," said the mistress; "what can you tell us about it?"

"I can tell you this, ma'am, that I saw Master Conrad steal into the room this morning, and put it there with his own hands."

"Ha! this is something to the purpose." said the detective briskly.

"Are you sure of this, Susan?" asked Mrs. Hamilton, evidently shocked.

"I can take my Bible oath of it, ma'am; and it's my belief that he's tryin' to get Master Ben into trouble."

"Thank you, Susan," said her mistress. "You have done not only Ben, but myself, a valuable service. You can go. I will see that you do not regret it."

"Don't tell Mrs. Hill that I told you, or she'd be my enemy for life!"

"I will see to that."

As Susan left the room, Mr. Lynx said:

"You won't require my services any longer. It is clear enough who pawned the glass."

"You mean—"

"I mean the boy Conrad, whose mother was so anxious to fix the guilt upon your young secretary. If you have the slightest doubt about it, invite the young gentleman to accompany you to Simpson's to redeem the opera glass."

"I will."



CHAPTER XXIX SOME UNEXPECTED CHANGES

When Conrad came home his first visit was to his mother.

"Has anything been found out about the stolen opera glass?" he asked, with a studied air of indifference.

"I should say there had," she answered. "I followed the clew you suggested, and searched the boy's room. On the bureau I found the pawn ticket."

"You don't say so! What a muff Ben must have been to leave it around so carelessly! What did you do with it?"

"I waited till Mr. Lynx was conferring with Cousin Hamilton, and then I carried it in and gave it to them."

"What did they say?" asked Conrad eagerly.

"They seemed thunderstruck, and Mr. Lynx very politely thanked me for the help I had given them."

"Has Ben been bounced yet?"

"No; but doubtless he will be very soon. Cousin Hamilton doesn't want to think him a thief and gambler, but there seems no way of escaping from such a mass of proof."

"I should say not. Do you think she's told Ben? Does he look down in the mouth?" continued Conrad.

"I haven't seen him since."

When they met at the table Mrs. Hamilton's manner toward Ben was decidedly frigid, as Conrad and his mother saw, much to their satisfaction. Ben looked sober, but his appetite did not appear to be affected.

"Your course is about run, young man!" thought Mrs. Hill.

"I should like to see you after supper, Conrad," said Mrs. Hamilton. "Come into my sitting room."

"I wonder if she is going to give me Ben's place," thought Conrad, hardly knowing whether he wished it or not.

With a jaunty air and a self-satisfied smile, he followed Mrs. Hamilton into her "private office," as she sometimes called it.

"Shut the door, Conrad," she said.

He did so.

"I have heard news of the opera glass," she commenced.

"Mother gave me a hint of that," said Conrad.

"It was stolen and pawned at Simpson's on the Bowery."

"It's a great shame!" said Conrad, thinking that a safe comment to make.

"Yes, it was a shame and a disgrace to the one who took it."

"I didn't think Ben would do such a thing," continued Conrad, growing bolder.

"Nor I," said Mrs. Hamilton.

"After all you have done for him, too. I never liked the boy, for my part."

"So I suspected," said Mrs. Hamilton dryly. "However, I will tell you what I want of you. I am going down to Simpson's to-morrow to redeem the glass, and want you to go with me."

"You want me to go with you!" ejaculated Conrad, turning pale.

"Yes; I don't care to go to that part of the City by myself, and I will take you to keep me company."

"But I must go to the office," faltered Conrad.

"I will send Ben to say that you can't go to-morrow."

"Why don't you take Ben to Simpson's, or the detective?" suggested Conrad, in great alarm, bethinking himself that it would hardly do to take Ben, since the attendant would certify that he was not the one who pawned the glass.

"Because I prefer to take you. Have you any objection to go!"

"Oh, no, of course not!" answered Conrad, not daring to make any further objection.

In the morning Mrs. Hill came to Mrs. Hamilton, and said:

"Poor Conrad has a terrible toothache! He is afraid he won't be able to go with you to Simpson's. Will you kindly excuse him?"

Mrs. Hamilton expected some such excuse.

"I will take Ben, then," she said.

"Are you going to keep that boy—after what be has done?" asked the housekeeper.

"It is inconvenient for me to part with him just yet."

"Then—I hope you will excuse the suggestion—I advise you to keep your bureau drawers locked."

"I think it best myself," said Mrs. Hamilton. Is Conrad's toothache very bad?"

"The poor fellow is in great pain."

When Ben was invited by Mrs. Hamilton to go to the pawnbroker's he made no objection.

"It is only fair to tell you, Ben," said Mrs. Hamilton, that the person who pawned the opera glass gave your name."

"Then," said Ben, "I should like to know who it is."

"I think I know," said his patroness; "but when we redeem the glass we will ask for a description of him."

An hour later they entered the pawnbroker's shop. Mrs. Hamilton presented the ticket and made herself known.

"Will you tell me," she asked, "whether you have ever seen the young gentleman that accompanies me?"

"Not to my knowledge," answered the attendant, after attentively regarding Ben.

"Can you remember the appearance of the boy who pawned the opera glass?"

"He was taller than this boy, and pale. He was thinner also. His hair was a light brown."

A light dawned upon Ben, and his glance met that of Mrs. Hamilton, so that she read his suspicions.

"I think we both know who it was that took your name, Ben," she said; "but for the present I wish you to keep it secret."

"I will certainly do so, Mrs. Hamilton."

"I am placed in difficult circumstances, and have not made up my mind what to do."

"I hope you won't allow yourself to be prejudiced against me by any false stories."

"No, I can promise you that. I have perfect confidence in you."

"Thank you for that, Mrs. Hamilton," said Ben gratefully.

"Yet I am about to take a course that will surprise you."

"What is that?"

"I am going to let you leave me for a time, and put Conrad in your place."

Ben looked bewildered, as well he might. There was nothing that would have surprised him more.

"Then I am afraid you don't find me satisfactory," he said anxiously.

"Why not?"

"You discharge me from your service."

"No" answered Mrs. Hamilton, smiling; "I have other work for you to do. I mean to give you a confidential commission."

Ben's face brightened up immediately.

"You will find me faithful," he said, "and I hope I may repay your confidence."

"I think you will. I will explain matters to you before you reach the house, as I don't want Mrs. Hill or Conrad to know about the matter. Indeed, for reasons of my own, I shall let them think that I discharged you."

Ben smiled; he was not averse to such a plan.

"And now for the business. I own a farm in the western part of Pennsylvania. I have for years let it for a nominal sum to a man named Jackson. Of late he has been very anxious to buy it, and has offered me a sum greater than I had supposed it to be worth. As I know him to be a close-fisted man, who has tried more than once to get me to reduce the small rent I charge him, this naturally excites my curiosity. I think something has been discovered that enhances the value of the farm, and, if so, I want to know it. You are a boy, and a visit to the neighborhood will not excite surprise.

"I understand," said Ben. "When do you wish me to start?"

"This afternoon. I have prepared written instructions, and here is a pocketbook containing a hundred and fifty dollars for expenses."

"Shall I need so much?"

"Probably not; but I wish you to be amply provided. You will remove all your things from my house, but you may store anything you don't need to carry."

When Conrad heard that Mrs. Hamilton had taken Ben with her, he was alarmed lest it should be discovered that the boy pawning the opera glass was not Ben, but himself. When, upon Mrs. Hamilton's return, he was summoned to her presence, he entered with trepidation.

"Is your toothache better, Conrad?" asked Mrs. Hamilton.

"A little better, thank you."

"I am going to make a change in your position. Ben is to leave me, and you will take his place as my secretary."

Conrad's heart bounded with joy and surprise.

"How can I thank you, Cousin Hamilton!" he said, with a feeling of great relief.

"By serving me well."

"All has turned out for the best, mother," said Conrad joyfully, as he sought his mother's presence. "Ben is bounced, and I am to take his place."

"Heaven be praised!" ejaculated Mrs. Hill.

"I hope you'll soon find a place," said Conrad mockingly, when Ben left the house, valise in hand.

"I think I shall," answered Ben calmly.



CHAPTER XXX BEN "GOES WEST"

Undisturbed by the thought that his departure was viewed with joy by Conrad and his mother, Ben set out on his Western journey.

His destination was Centerville, in Western Pennsylvania. I may as well say that this is not the real name of the place, which, for several reasons, I conceal.

Though Ben was not an experienced traveler, he found no difficulty in reaching his destination, having purchased a copy of "Appleton's Railway Guide," which afforded him all the information he required. About fifty miles this side of Centerville he had for a seat companion a man of middle age, with a pleasant face, covered with a brown beard, who, after reading through a Philadelphia paper which he had purchased of the train-boy, seemed inclined to have a social chat with Ben.

"May I ask your destination, my young friend?" he asked.

Ben felt that it was well for him to be cautious, though he was pleasantly impressed with the appearance of his companion.

"I think I shall stop over at Centerville," he said.

"Indeed! That is my destination."

"Do you live there?" asked Ben.

"No," said the other, laughing. "Do I look like it? I thought you would read 'New York' in my face and manner."

"I am not an experienced observer," said Ben modestly.

"Centerville has a prosperous future before it," said the stranger.

"Has it? I don't know much about the place. I never was there."

"You know, of course, that it is in the oil region?"

"I didn't even know that."

"A year ago," resumed the stranger, "it was a humdrum farming town, and not a very prosperous one either. The land is not of good quality, and the farmers found it hard work to get a poor living. Now all is changed."

Ben's attention was aroused. He began to understand why Mr. Jackson wished to buy the farm he rented from Mrs. Hamilton.

"This is all new to me," he said. "I suppose oil has been found there?"

"Yes; one old farm, which would have been dear at three thousand dollars, is now yielding hundreds of barrels daily, and would fetch fifty thousand dollars easily."

Ben began to be excited. If he could only sell Mrs. Hamilton's farm for half that he felt that he would be doing an excellent thing.

"I suppose you are interested in some of the petroleum wells?" he said.

"Not yet, but I hope to be. In fact, I don't mind confessing that I represent a New York syndicate, and that my object in making this journey is to purchase, if I can, the Jackson farm."

"The Jackson farm!" repeated Ben, his breath almost taken away by his surprise.

"Yes; do you know anything about it?" asked his companion.

"I have heard of a farmer in Centerville named Peter Jackson."

"That is the man."

"And his farm is one of the lucky ones, then?"

"It promises to be."

"I suppose, then, you will have to pay a large sum for it?" said Ben, trying to speak calmly.

"Jackson is very coy, and, I think, grasping. He wants fifty thousand dollars."

"Of course you won't pay so much?"

"I should hardly feel authorized to do so. I may go as high as forty thousand dollars."

Ben was dazzled. If he could effect a sale at this price he would be doing a splendid stroke of business, and would effectually defeat the plans of Mr. Jackson, who, it appeared, had pretended that he was the owner of the farm, hoping to obtain it from Mrs. Hamilton at a valuation which would have been suitable before the discovery of oil, but now would be ludicrously disproportionate to its real value.

"Shall or shall I not, tell this gentleman the truth?" he reflected.

He thought over the matter and decided to do so. The discovery must be made sooner or later, and there would be no advantage in delay.

"I don't think Jackson will sell," he said.

"Why not?" asked the stranger, in surprise. "Do you know him?"

"I never saw him in my life."

"Then how can you form any opinion on the subject?"

Ben smiled.

"The answer is easy enough," he said. "Mr. Jackson can't sell what he doesn't own."

"Do you mean to say that he is not the owner of the farm which he proposes to sell us?"

"That is just what I mean. He is no more the owner than you or I."

"You speak confidently, young man. Perhaps you can tell me who is the owner?"

"I can. The owner is Mrs. Hamilton, of New York."

"Indeed! That is a genuine surprise. Can you give me her address? I should like to communicate with her."

"I will cheerfully give you her address, but it won't be necessary, for I represent her."

"You!" exclaimed the stranger incredulously.

"Yes; and I am going out to Centerville now as her agent. This Jackson, who is her tenant, has been urging her to sell him the farm for some time. He has offered a sum larger than the farm would be worth but for the discovery of petroleum, but has taken good care not to speak of this."

"How much does he offer?"

"Five thousand dollars."

"The rascal!" He offers five thousand, and expects us to pay him fifty thousand dollars for his bargain. What an unmitigated swindle it would have been if he had carried out his scheme!"

"Perhaps you would like to see his last letter?" said Ben.

"I should. I want to see what the old rascal has to say for himself."

Ben took from his pocket the letter in question, and put it into the hands of his new acquaintance.

It was dated at Centerville, October 21. It was written in a cramped hand, showing that the farmer was not accustomed to letter-writing.

It ran thus:

"Respected Madam:

"As I have already wrote you, I would like to buy the farm, and will give you more than anybody else, because I am used to living on it, and it seems like home. I am willing to pay five thousand dollars, though I know it is only worth four, but it is worth more to me than to others. I offer you more because I know you are rich, and will not sell unless you get a good bargain. Please answer right away.

"Yours respectfully, Peter Jackson.

"P.S.—My offer will hold good for only two weeks."

"He seems to be very much in earnest," said Ben.

"He has reason to be so, as he hopes to make forty-five thousand dollars on his investment."

"He will be bitterly disappointed," said Ben.

"I don't care anything about Jackson," said the stranger. "I would just as soon negotiate with you. Are you authorized to sell the farm?"

"No," answered Ben; "but Mrs. Hamilton will probably be guided by my advice in the mater."

"That amounts to the same thing. I offer you forty thousand dollars for it."

"I think favorably of your proposal, Mr. ——"

"My name is Taylor."

"Mr. Taylor; but I prefer to delay answering till I am on the ground and can judge better of the matter."

"You are right. I was surprised at first that Mrs. Hamilton should have selected so young an agent. I begin to think her choice was a judicious one."



CHAPTER XXXI MR. JACKSON RECEIVES A CALL

"Suppose we join forces, Ben," said Mr. Taylor familiarly.

"How do you mean?"

"We will join forces against this man Jackson. He wants to swindle both of us—that is, those whom we represent.

"I am willing to work with you" answered Ben, who had been favorably impressed by the appearance and frankness of his traveling companion.

"Then suppose to-morrow morning—it is too late to-day—we call over and see the old rascal."

"I would rather not have him know on what errand I come, just at first."

"That is in accordance with my own plans. You will go as my companion. He will take you for my son, or nephew, and, while I am negotiating, you can watch and judge for yourself."

"I like the plan," said Ben.

"When he finds out who you are he will feel pretty badly sold."

"He deserves it."

The two put up at a country hotel, which, though not luxurious, was tolerably comfortable. After the fatigue of his journey, Ben enjoyed a good supper and a comfortable bed. The evening, however, he spent in the public room of the inn, where he had a chance to listen to the conversation of a motley crowd, some of them native and residents, others strangers who had been drawn to Centerville by the oil discoveries.

"I tell you," said a long, lank individual, "Centerville's goin' to be one of the smartest places in the United States. It's got a big future before it."

"That's so," said a small, wiry man; "but I'm not so much interested in that as I am in the question whether or not I've got a big future before me."

"You're one of the owners of the Hoffman farm, ain't you?"

"Yes. I wish I owned the whole of it. Still, I've made nigh on to a thousand dollars durin' the last month for my share of the profits. Pretty fair, eh?"

"I should say so. You've got a good purchase; but there's one better in my opinion."

"Where's that?"

"Peter Jackson's farm."

Here Ben and Mr. Taylor began to listen with interest.

"He hasn't begun to work it any, has he?"

"Not much; just enough to find out its value."

"What's he waitin' for?"

"There's some New York people want it. If he can get his price, he'll sell it to them for a good sum down."

"What does he ask?"

"He wants fifty thousand dollars."

"Whew! that's rather stiffish. I thought the property belonged to a lady in New York."

"So it did; but Jackson says he bought it a year ago."

"He was lucky."

Ben and Mr. Taylor looked at each other again. It was easy to see the old farmer's game, and to understand why he was so anxious to secure the farm, out of which he could make so large a sum of money.

"He's playing a deep game, Ben," said Taylor, when they had left the room.

"Yes; but I think I shall be able to put a spoke in his wheel."

"I shall be curious to see how he takes it when he finds the negotiation taken out of his hands. We'll play with him a little, as a cat plays with a mouse."

The next morning, after a substantial breakfast, Ben and his new friend took a walk to the farm occupied by Peter Jackson. It was about half a mile away, and when reached gave no indication of the wealth it was capable of producing. The farmhouse was a plain structure nearly forty years old, badly in need of paint, and the out-buildings harmonized with it in appearance.

A little way from the house was a tall, gaunt man, engaged in mending a fence. He was dressed in a farmer's blue frock and overalls, and his gray, stubby beard seemed to be of a week's growth. There was a crafty, greedy look in his eyes, which overlooked a nose sharp and aquiline. His feet were incased in a pair of cowhide boots. He looked inquiringly at Taylor as he approached, but hardly deigned to look at Ben, who probably seemed too insignificant to notice. He gave a shrewd guess at the errand of the visitor, but waited for him to speak first.

"Is this Mr. Jackson?" asked Taylor, with a polite bow.

"That's my name, stranger," answered the old man.

"My name is Taylor. I wrote to you last week."

"I got the letter," said Jackson, going on with his work. It was his plan not to seem too eager but to fight shy in order to get his price. Besides, though he would have been glad to close the bargain on the spot, there was an embarrassing difficulty. The farm was not his to sell, and he was anxiously awaiting Mrs. Hamilton's answer to his proposal.

"She can't have heard of the oil discoveries," he thought, "and five thousand dollars will seem a big price for the farm. She can't help agreeing to my terms."

This consideration made him hopeful, but for all that, he must wait, and waiting he found very tantalizing.

"Have you decided to accept my offer, Mr. Jackson?"

"Waal, I'll have to take a leetle time to consider. How much did you say you'd give?"

"Forty thousand dollars."

"I'd ought to have fifty."

"Forty thousand dollars is a big sum of money."

"And this farm is a perfect gold mine. Shouldn't wonder if it would net a hundred thousand dollars."

"There is no certainty of that, and the purchasers will have to take a big risk"

"There isn't much risk. Ask anybody in Centerville what he thinks of the Jackson farm."

"Suppose I were ready to come to your terms—mind, I don't say I am—would you sign the papers to-day?"

Jackson looked perplexed. He knew could not do it.

"What's your hurry?" he said.

"The capitalists whom I represent are anxious to get to work as soon as possible. That's natural, isn't, it?"

"Ye-es," answered Jackson.

"So, the sooner we fix matters the better. I want to go back to New York to-morrow if I can."

"I don't think I can give my answer as soon as that. Wait a minute, though."

A boy was approaching, Jackson's son, if one could judge from the resemblance, holding a letter in his hand.

"Come right here, Abner," he called out eagerly.

Abner approached, and his father snatched the letter from his hand. It bore the New York postmark, but, on opening it, Jackson looked bitterly disappointed. He had hoped it was from Mrs. Hamilton, accepting his offer for the farm; but, instead of that, it was an unimportant circular.

"I'll have to take time to think over your offer, Mr. Taylor," he said. "You see, I'll have to talk over matters with the old woman."

"By the way," said Taylor carelessly, "I was told in the village that you didn't own the farm—that it was owned by a lady in New York."

"She used to own it," said the fanner, uneasily; "but I bought it of her a year ago."

"So that you have the right to sell it?"

"Of course I have."

"What have you to say to that, Ben?" asked Taylor quietly.

"That if Mrs. Hamilton has sold the farm to Mr. Jackson she doesn't know it."

"What do you mean, boy?" gasped Jackson.

"I mean that when I left New York Mrs. Hamilton owned the farm."

"It's a lie!" muttered the farmer; but he spoke with difficulty. "I bought it a year ago."

"In that case it is strange that you should have written a week ago offering five thousand dollars for the farm."

"Who says I wrote?"

"I do; and I have your letter in my pocket," answered Ben firmly.



CHAPTER XXXII BEN SELLS THE FARM

The farmer stared at Ben panic-stricken. He had thought success within his grasp. He was to be a rich man—independent for life—as the result of the trick which he was playing upon Mrs. Hamilton. His disappointment was intense, and he looked the picture of discomfiture.

"I don't believe you," he faltered after a pause.

Ben drew a letter from his inside pocket and held it up.

"Do you deny the writing?" he said.

"Give it to me!" said Jackson, with a sudden movement.

"No, thank you; I prefer to keep it. I shall make no use of it unless it is necessary. I called here to notify you that Mrs. Hamilton does not propose to sacrifice the farm. If it is sold at all it will be to someone who will pay its full value."

"You can't sell it," said Jackson sullenly. "I have a lease."

"Produce it."

"At any rate, I shall stay till my year's out."

"That will depend upon the new owner. If he is willing, Mrs. Hamilton will not object."

"I think you've got him there, Ben," said Mr. Taylor, with a laugh. "Mr. Jackson, I think it won't be worth while to continue our conversation. You undertook to sell what was not yours. I prefer to deal with the real owner or her representative."

"That boy is an impostor!" muttered Jackson. "Why, he's only a school boy. What does he know about business?"

"I think he has proved a match for you. Good-morning, Mr. Jackson. Ben, let us be going."

"Now," said Taylor as they were walking toward the inn, "what do you say to my offer?"

"Please state it, Mr. Taylor."

"I offer forty thousand dollars for the farm. It may be worth considerably more than that; but, on the other hand, the wells may soon run dry. I have to take the chances."

"That seems a fair offer, Mr. Taylor," said Ben frankly. "If I were the owner I would accept it; but I am acting for another who may not think as I do."

"Will you consult her and let me know?"

"I will write at once."

"Why not telegraph? The delay would be too great if you trust to the mail."

"I will do as you suggest," answered Ben, "if there is an opportunity to telegraph from this place."

"There is an office at the depot."

"Then I will take that on my way back to the hotel."

At one corner of the depot Ben found a telegraph operator. After a little consideration, he dashed off the following telegram:

"No. —— Madison Avenue, New York.

"To Mrs. Hamilton:

"Oil has been discovered on your farm. I am offered forty thousand dollars for it by a responsible party. What shall I do?

"Ben Barclay."

"Send answer to the hotel," said Ben, to the operator.

Four hours later a messenger brought to Ben the following dispatch:

"Your news is most surprising. Sell at the figure named if you think it best. You have full powers.

"Helen Hamilton."

Mr. Taylor watched Ben's face eagerly as he read the telegram, for he knew that it must relate to his offer.

"What does your principal say?" he inquired.

"You can read the telegram, Mr. Taylor."

Taylor did so.

"So you have full powers?" he said. "Mrs. Hamilton must feel great confidence in you."

There was a proud flush on Ben's cheek as he replied:

"I have reason to think that she does. I hope it is not misplaced."

"I hope you won't drive a hard bargain with me, Ben."

"I don't mean to bargain at all. You have made a fair offer, and I will accept it."

Taylor looked pleased.

"Some boys in your position," he said, "would have stipulated for a present."

"I shall do nothing of the kind," said Ben promptly. "I should not think it honest."

"Your honesty, my boy, is of the old-fashioned kind. It is not the kind now in vogue. I like you the better for it, and if you were not in Mrs. Hamilton's employ I would try to secure your services myself."

"Thank you, Mr. Taylor. The time may come when shall remind you of your promise."

"You will find I have not forgotten it. And now to business. We will go to a lawyer and have the necessary papers drawn up, which you shall sign in behalf of your principal."

The business was speedily arranged, and by supper-time Ben found that he had nothing further to detain him in Centerville. He felt that he had done a smart stroke of business. Mrs. Hamilton had been surprised at receiving an offer of five thousand dollars for the farm, yet he had sold it for forty thousand!

As they were returning from the lawyer's office they met farmer Jackson just returning from the post office.

"By the way, Mr. Jackson," said Taylor, "you will perhaps be interested to learn that your farm has been sold."

The farmer paused, and looked troubled.

"Are you going to turn me out of the house?" he asked.

"Not if you wish to live in it. I shall employ workmen at once to sink wells, and develop the property. They will need to board somewhere. Are you willing to board them?"

"Yes; I shall be glad to," answered Jackson. "I am a poor man, and it's hard work living by farming."

"Very well; we can no doubt make an arrangement. I am obliged to go to New York to complete arrangements for the transfer of the property, but I shall come back as soon as possible and commence operations."

"I wouldn't mind workin' for myself," said Jackson.

"Then you are the first man I engage."

The old farmer brightened up. He was to make money out of the new discoveries after all, though not in the way he had comtemplated.

"When are you going back to New York, Ben?" asked Taylor.

"There is nothing to detain me here any longer."

"We can go back together, then."

"I shall be glad to travel in your company, sir."

"Do you expect to remain in Mrs. Hamilton's employ?"

"I don't know," answered Ben.

"What were you doing?"

"Keeping accounts and acting as her private secretary."

"Do you like it?"

"Yes; I find it very pleasant, or would be but for one thing."

"What is that?"

"She has relatives living in the house who do not like me."

"Jealous, eh?"

"Perhaps so."

"Let me say frankly, that you are fitted for something higher. I am a good judge of men—"

Ben smiled.

"Boys, then; and I consider you a boy of excellent business capacity. After I have got my oil wells under way, I should like to engage you as superintendent."

"I am flattered by your good opinion, Mr. Taylor, but it is a business I know nothing of."

"You would make it your business to learn it, or I mistake you."

"You are right there, sir."

"However, there will be plenty of time to arrange about this matter. It would probably be two months before I felt justified in leaving another in charge."

The two started for New York. About fifty miles before reaching the city, as Ben was reading a magazine he had purchased from the train-boy, he felt a touch upon his shoulder.

Looking up, he recognized, to his amazement, the tramp with whom he had had an adventure some weeks before in Pentonville.

"I see you know me," said the tramp, with a smile.



CHAPTER XXXIII GOOD NEWS

The tramp, as we may call him for want of a different name, certainly showed signs of improvement in his personal appearance. He looked quite respectable, in fact, in a business suit of gray mixed cloth, and would have passed muster in any assemblage.

"I think I have met you before," answered Ben, with a smile.

"Perhaps it would have been more of a compliment not to have recognized me. I flatter myself that I have changed."

"So you have, and for the better."

"Thank you. I believe we rode together when we last met."

"Yes," said Ben.

"And you were not sorry to part copy with me—is it not so?"

"I won't contradict you."

"Yet I am inclined to be your friend."

"I am glad of it," said Ben politely, though, truth to tell, he did not anticipate any particular benefit to accrue from the acquaintance of the speaker.

"I see you don't attach much importance to my offer of friendship. Yet I can do you an important service."

Mr. Taylor, who had been occupying a seat with Ben, here arose.

"You have something to say to my young friend," he said. "Take my seat."

"Don't let me deprive you of it," said the other with a politeness Ben had not deemed him capable of.

"By no means. I am going into the smoking car to smoke a cigar. Ben, I will be back soon."

"I didn't expect to meet you so far from Pentonville," said Ben's new companion, unable to suppress his curiosity.

"I don't live in Pentonville now."

"Where then?"

"In the city of New York."

"Are you employed there?"

"Yes; but I am just returning from a trip to Western Pennsylvania."

"Did you go on business?"

"Yes."

"Well, you are getting on, for a country boy. What do you hear from home?"

"My mother is well, but I fancy that is not what you mean."

"Yes, I am interested about your mother. Has she yet paid off that mortgage on her cottage?"

"How did you know there was a mortgage," asked Ben, in surprise.

"I know more than you suppose. What are the chances that she will be able to pay?"

"They are very small," answered Ben, gravely, "but the money is not yet due."

"When will it be due?"

"In about six weeks."

"Squire Davenport will foreclose—I know him well enough for that."

"So I suppose," said Ben, soberly.

"Is there no friend who will oblige you with the money?"

"I don't know of anyone I should feel at liberty to call on."

It came into his mind that Mrs. Hamilton was abundantly able to help them, but she did not know his mother, and it would savor of presumption for him to ask so great a favor. True, he had effected a most profitable sale for her, but that was only in the line of his faithful duty, and gave him no claim upon his employer.

"I thought, perhaps, the gentlemen you were traveling with—the one who has gone info the smoking-car—might—"

"He is only a business acquaintance; I have known him less than a week."

"To be sure, that alters matters. He is not your employer, then?"

"No."

"Then I believe I shall have to help you myself."

Ben stared at his companion in amazement. What! this man who had robbed him of a dollar only four weeks before, to offer assistance in so important a matter!

"I suppose you are joking," said he, after a pause.

"Joking! Far from it. I mean just what I say. If Squire Davenport undertakes to deprive your mother of her home, I will interfere, and, you will see, with effect."

"Would you mind explaining to me how you would help us?" asked Ben.

"Yes, in confidence, it being understood that I follow my own course in the matter."

"That is fair enough."

"Suppose I tell you, then, that Squire Davenport—I believe that is the title he goes by in your village—owes your mother more than the amount of the mortgage."

"Is this true?" said Ben, much surprised.

"It is quite true."

"But how can it be?"

"Your father, at his death, held a note of Davenport's for a thousand dollars—money which he had placed in his hands—a note bearing six per cent. interest."

Ben was more and more surprised; at first he was elated, then depressed.

"It will do me no good," he said, "nothing was found at father's death, and the note is no doubt destroyed."

"So Squire Davenport thinks," said his companion quietly.

"But isn't it true?"

"No; that note not only is in existence, but I knew where to lay my hands on it."

"Then it will more than offset the mortgage?" said Ben joyfully.

"I should say. No interest has been paid on the note for more than five years. The amount due must be quite double the amount of the mortgage."

"How can I thank you for this information?" said Ben. "We shall not be forced to give up our little cottage, after all. But how could Squire Davenport so wickedly try to cheat us of our little property?"

"My dear boy," said the tramp, shrugging his shoulders, "your question savors of verdancy. Learn that there is no meanness too great to be inspired by the love of money."

"But Squire Davenport was already rich."

"And for that reason he desired to become richer."

"When shall we go to see the squire and tell him about the note?"

"I prefer that you should wait till the day the mortgage comes due. When is that?"

"On the twentieth of December."

"Then on the nineteenth of December we will both go to Pentonville and wait till the squire shows his hand."

"You seem to be—excuse me—in better circumstances than when we last met."

"I am. An old uncle of mine died last month, and considerately left me ten thousand dollars. Perhaps if he had known more about my way of life he would have found another heir. It has led me to turn over a new leaf, and henceforth I am respectable, as befits a man of property. I even keep a card case."

He drew out a card case and handed a card to Ben. It bore the name of Harvey Dinsmore.

"Mr. Dinsmore," said our young hero, I rejoice at your good fortune."

"Thank you. Shall we be friends?"

"With pleasure."

"Then I have more good news for you. Your father owned twenty-five shares in a Western railway. These shares are selling at par, and a year's dividends are due."

"Why, we shall be rich," said Ben, fairly dazzled by this second stroke of good fortune.

"I hope so; though this is only a beginning."

"How can we prove that the railway shares belong to us?"

"Leave that to me. On the nineteenth of December you will meet me in Pentonville. Till then we probably shall not meet."

At this moment Mr. Taylor made his appearance, returning from the smoking-car, and Harvey Dinsmore left them.

"Well, Ben, has your friend entertained you?" asked Taylor.

"He has told me some very good news."

"I am glad to hear it."

In due time they reached New York, and Ben started uptown to call upon Mrs. Hamilton.



CHAPTER XXXIV CONRAD GOES INTO WALL STREET

When Conrad succeeded Ben as Mrs. Hamilton's private secretary, he was elated by what he considered his promotion. His first disappointment came when he learned that his salary was to be but five dollars a week. He did not dare to remonstrate with his employer, but he expressed himself freely to his mother.

"Cousin Hamilton might afford to pay me more than five dollars a week," he said bitterly.

"It is small," said his mother cautiously, "but we must look to the future."

"If you mean till Cousin Hamilton dies, it may be twenty or thirty years. Why, she looks healthier than you, mother, and will probably live longer."

Mrs. Hill looked grave. She did not fancy this speech.

"I don't think we shall have to wait so long," she said. "When you are twenty-one Cousin Hamilton will probably do something for you."

"That's almost five years," grumbled Conrad.

"At any rate we have got Ben Barclay out of the house, that's one comfort."

"Yes, I am glad of that; but I'd rather be in my old place than this, if I am to get only five dollars a week."

"Young people are so impatient," sighed Mrs. Hill. "You don't seem to consider that it isn't alone taking Ben's place, but you have got rid of a dangerous rival for the inheritance."

"That's true," said Conrad, "and I hated Ben. I'd rather any other boy would cut me out than he."

"Do you know what has become of him?"

"No; I expect that he has gone back to the country—unless he's blacking boots or selling papers downtown somewhere. By Jove, I'd like to come across him with a blacking-brush. He used to put on such airs. I would like to have heard Cousin Hamilton give him the grand bounce."

Nothing could be more untrue than that Ben putting on airs, but Conrad saw him through the eyes of prejudice, and persuaded himself that such was the fact. In reality Ben was exceedingly modest and unassuming, and it was this among other things that pleased Mrs. Hamilton.

Conrad continued to find his salary insufficient. He was still more dissatisfied after an interview with one of his school companions, a boy employed in a Wall Street broker's office.

He was just returning from an errand on which Mrs. Hamilton had sent him, when he overtook Fred Lathrop on his way uptown.

The attention of Conrad was drawn to a heavy gold ring with a handsome stone on Fred's finger.

"Where did you get that ring?" asked Conrad, who had himself a fancy for rings.

"Bought it in Maiden Lane. How do you like it?"

"It is splendid. Do you mind telling me how much you paid?"

"I paid forty-five dollars. It's worth more."

"Forty-five dollars!" ejaculated Conrad. "Why, you must be a millionaire. Where did you get so much money?"

"I didn't find it in the street," answered Fred jocularly.

"Can't you tell a feller? You didn't save it out of your wages, did you?"

"My wages? I should say not. Why, I only get six dollars a week, and have to pay car fare and lunches out of that."

"Then it isn't equal to my five dollars, for that is all clear. But, all the same, I can't save anything."

"Nor I."

"Then how can you afford to buy forty-five dollar rings?"

"I don't mind telling you," said Fred. "I made the money by speculating."

"Speculating!" repeated Conrad, still in the dark.

"Yes. I'll tell you all about it."

"Do! there's a good fellow."

"You see, I bought fifty Erie shares on a margin."

"How's that?"

"Why I got a broker to buy me fifty shares on a margin of one per cent. He did it to oblige me. I hadn't any money to put up, but I had done him one or two favors, and he did it out of good nature. As the stock was on the rise, he didn't run much of a risk. Well, I bought at 44 and sold at 45 1-4. So I made fifty dollars over and above the commission. I tell you I felt good when the broker paid me over five ten-dollar bills."

"I should think you would."

"I was afraid I'd spend the money foolishly, so I went right off and bought this ring. I can sell it for what I gave any time."

Conrad's cupidity was greatly excited by this remarkable luck of Fred's.

"That seems an easy way of making money," he said. "Do you think I could try it?"

"Anybody can do it if he's got the money to plank down for a margin."

"I don't think I quite understand."

"Then I'll tell you. You buy fifty shares of stock, costing, say, fifty dollars a share."

"That would be twenty-five hundred dollars."

"Yes, if you bought it right out. But you don't. You give the broker whatever per cent. he requires, say a dollar a share—most of them don't do it so cheap—and he buys the stock on your account. If it goes up one or two points, say to fifty-one or fifty-two, he sells out, and the profit goes to you, deducting twenty-five cents a share which he charges for buying and selling. Besides that, he pays you back your margin."

"That's splendid. But doesn't it ever go down?"

"I should say so. If it goes down a dollar a share, then, of course, you lose fifty dollars."

Conrad looked serious. This was not quite so satisfactory.

"It is rather risky, then," he said.

"Of course, there's some risk; but you know the old proverb, 'Nothing venture, nothing have.' You must choose the right stock—one that is going up."

"I don't know anything about stock," said Conrad.

"I do," said Fred. "If I had money I know what I'd buy."

"What?" asked Conrad eagerly.

"Pacific Mail."

"Do you think that's going up?"

"I feel sure of it. I overheard my boss and another broker talking about it yesterday, and they both predicted a bull movement in it."

"Does that mean it's going up?"

"To be sure."

"I should like to buy some."

"Have you got money to plank down as a margin?"

Conrad had in his pocketbook fifty dollars which he had collected for Mrs. Hamilton, being a month's rent on a small store on Third Avenue. It flashed upon him that with this money he could make fifty dollars for himself, and be able to pay back the original sum to Mrs. Hamilton as soon as the operation was concluded.

"Could you manage it for me, Fred?" he asked.

"Yes, I wouldn't mind."

"Then I'll give you fifty dollars, and you do the best you can for me. If I succeed I'll make you a present."

"All right. I hope you'll win, I am sure [illegible]"

Not giving himself time to think of the serious breach of trust he was committing, Conrad took the money from his pocket and transferred it to his companion.

"It won't take long, will it?" he asked anxiously.

"Very likely the stock will be bought and sold to-morrow."

"That will be splendid. You'll let me know right off?"

"Yes; I'll attend to that."

Conrad went home and reported to Mrs. Hamilton that the tenant had not paid, but would do so on Saturday.

Mrs. Hamilton was a little surprised, for the Third Avenue tenant had never before put her off. Something in Conrad's manner excited her suspicion, and she resolved the next day to call herself on Mr. Clark, the tenant. He would be likely to speak of the postponement, and give reasons for it.



CHAPTER XXXV TURNING THE TABLES

"Now Conrad," said Mrs. Hamilton, "will you tell me by what authority you send away my visitors?"

"I didn't suppose you would want to see Ben," stammered Conrad.

"Why not?"

"After what he has done?"

"What has he done?"

"He stole your opera glass and pawned it."

"You are mistaken. It was stolen by a different person."

Conrad started uneasily, and his mother, who was not in the secret, looked surprised.

"I know who took the opera glass," continued Mrs. Hamilton.

"Who was it?" asked the housekeeper.

"Your son, I regret to say."

"This is a slander!" exclaimed Mrs. Hill angrily. "Cousin Hamilton, that boy has deceived you."

"My information did not come from Ben, if that is what you mean."

"My son would be incapable of stealing," continued Mrs. Hill.

"I should be glad to think so. It can easily be settled. Let Conrad go with me tomorrow to the pawnbroker from whom I recovered the glass, and see if he recognizes him."

"He would be sure to say it was me," stammered Conrad.

"At any rate he told me it was not Ben, who made no opposition to accompanying me."

"I see there is a plot against my poor boy," said Mrs. Hill bitterly.

"On the contrary, I shall be glad to believe him innocent. But there is another matter that requires investigation. Conrad, here is a letter which has come for you. Are you willing I should open and read it?"

"I don't like to show my letters," said Conrad sullenly.

"The boy is right," said his mother, always ready to back up her son.

"I have good reason for wishing to know the contents of the letter," said Mrs. Hamilton sternly. "I will not open it, unless Conrad consents, but I will call on the brokers and question them as to their motive in addressing it to a boy."

Conrad was silent. He saw that there was no escape for him.

"Shall I read it?" asked Mrs. Hamilton.

"Yes," answered Conrad feebly.

The letter was opened.

It ran thus:

"Mr. Conrad Hill:

"You will be kind enough to call at our office at once, and pay commission due us for buying add selling fifty shares Pacific Mail. The fall in the price of the stock, as we have already notified you, exhausted the money you placed in our hands as margin.

"Yours respectfully," "BIRD & BRANT."

"I hope, Cousin Hamilton, you won't be too hard on the poor boy," said the housekeeper. "He thought he would be able to replace the money."

"You and Conrad have done your best to prejudice me against Ben."

"You are mistaken," said the housekeeper quickly, showing some evidence of agitation.

"I have learned that the letter which lured Ben to a gambling house was concocted between you. The letter I have in my possession."

"Who told you such a falsehood? If it is Ben—"

"It is not Ben, Mrs. Hill. He is as much surprised as you are to learn it now. The letter I submitted to an expert, who has positively identified the handwriting as yours, Mrs. Hill. You were very persistent in your attempts to make me believe than Ben was addicted to frequenting gambling houses."

"I see you are determined to believe me guilty," said Mrs. Hill. "Perhaps you think I know about the opera glass and this stock gambling?"

"I have no evidence of it, but I know enough to justify me in taking a decisive step."

Mrs. Hill listened apprehensively.

"It is this: you and Conrad must leave my house. I can no longer tolerate your presence here."

"You send us out to starve?" said the housekeeper bitterly.

"No; I will provide for you. I will allow you fifty dollars a month and Conrad half as much, and you can board where you please."

"While that boy usurps our place?" said Mrs. Hill bitterly.

"That is a matter to be decided between Ben and myself."

"We will go at once," said the housekeeper.

"I don't require it. You can stay here until you have secured a satisfactory boarding place."

But Conrad and his mother left the house the next morning. They saw that Mrs. Hamilton was no longer to be deceived, and they could gain nothing by staying. There was an angry scene between the mother and son.

"Were you mad, Conrad," said his mother, "to steal, where you were sure to be found out? It is your folly that has turned Cousin Hamilton against us?"

"No; it is that boy. I'd like to wring his neck!"

"I hope he will come to some bad end," said Mrs. Hill malignantly. "If he had not come to the house none of this would have happened."

Meanwhile Ben and his patroness had a satisfactory conversation.

"I hope you are satisfied with my management, Mrs. Hamilton?" said our hero.

"You have done wonderfully, Ben. Through you I am the richer by thirty-five thousand dollars at the very least, for the farm would have been dear at five thousand, whereas it was sold for forty thousand."

"I am very glad you are satisfied."

"You shall have reason to be glad. I intend to pay you a commission for selling the place."

"Thank you," said Ben joyfully.

He thought it possible Mrs. Hamilton might give him fifty dollars, and this would have been very welcome.

"Under the circumstances, I shall allow you an extra commission—say 10 per cent. How much will 10 per cent. amount to on forty thousand dollars?"

"Four thousand," answered Ben mechanically.

"Consider yourself worth fourth thousand dollars, then."

"But this is too much, Mrs. Hamilton," said Ben, scarcely crediting his good fortune.

"Then give half of it to your mother," said Mrs. Hamilton, smiling.

"Now we can pay off the mortgage!" exclaimed Ben, joyfully.

"What mortgage?"

Ben told the story, and it aroused the lively sympathy of his patroness.

"As soon as the purchase money is paid," she said, "you shall have you commission, and sooner if it is needed."



CHAPTER XXXVI A LETTER FROM ROSE GARDINER

Ben resumed his place as the secretary and confidential clerk of Mrs. Hamilton. He found his position more agreeable when Mrs. Hill and Conrad were fairly out of the house. In place of the first a pleasant-faced German woman was engaged, and there were no more sour looks and sneering words.

Of course Ben kept up a weekly correspondence with his mother. He did not tell her the extent of his good fortune—he wished that to be a surprise, when the time came. From his mother, too, he received weekly letters, telling him not unfrequently how she missed him, though she was glad he was doing so well.

One day beside his mother's letter was another. He did not know the handwriting, but, looking eagerly to the end, he saw the name of Rose Gardiner.

"What would Rose say," Ben asked himself, "if she knew that I am worth four thousand dollars?"

The money had been paid to Ben, and was deposited in four different savings banks, till he could decide on a better investment. So he was quite sure of having more than enough to pay off the mortgage and redeem the cottage.

"Since mother is worrying, I must write and set her mind at rest," he decided.

He wrote accordingly, telling his mother not to feel anxious, for he had wealthy friends, and he felt sure, with their help, of paying off the mortgage. "But don't tell anybody this," he continued, "for I want to give the squire and Mr. Kirk a disagreeable surprise. I shall come to Pentonville two days before, and may stay a week."

He had already spoken to Mrs. Hamilton about having this week as a vacation.



CHAPTER XXXVII BEN'S VISIT TO PENTONVILLE

On the eighteenth of December Ben arrived in Pentonville. It was his first visit since he went up to New York for good. He reached home without observation, and found his mother overjoyed to see him.

"It has seemed a long, long time that you have been away, Ben," she said.

"Yes, mother; but I did a good thing in going to New York."

"You are looking well, Ben, and you have grown."

"Yes, mother; and best of all, I have prospered. Squire Davenport can't have the house!"

"You don't mean to say, Ben, that you have the money to pay it off?" asked his mother, with eager hope.

"Yes, mother; and, better still, the money is my own."

"This can't be true, Ben!" she said incredulously.

"Yes, but it is, though! You are to ask me no questions until after the twentieth. Then I will tell you all."

"I am afraid I shall have to send you to the store, for I am out of groceries."

A list was given, and Ben started for the store.

Mr. Kirk looked up in surprise as he entered.

"You're the Barclay boy, ain't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"I thought you were in New York."

"I was, but I have just got home."

"Couldn't make it, go, hey?"

Ben smiled, but did not answer.

"I may give you something to do," said Kirk, in a patronizing tone. "You've been employed in this store, I believe."

"Yes, I was here some months."

"I'll give you two dollars a week."

"Thank you," said Ben meekly, "but I shall have to take a little time to decide—say the rest of the week."

"I suppose you want to help your mother move?"

"She couldn't move alone."

"Very well; you can begin next Monday."

When Ben was going home, he met his old enemy, Tom Davenport. Tom's eyes lighted up when he saw Ben, and he crossed the street to speak to him. It may be mentioned that, though Ben had a new and stylish suit of clothes, he came home in the old suit he had worn away, and his appearance, therefore, by no means betokened prosperity.

"So you're back again!" said Tom abruptly.

"Yes."

"I always said you'd come back."

"Are you going to look for something to do?" Tom asked.

"Mr. Kirk has offered me a place in the store."

"How much pay?"

"Two dollars a week."

"You'd better take it."

"I hardly think I can work at that figure," said Ben, mildly.

"Kirk won't pay you any more."

"I'll think of it. By the way, Tom, call around and see me some time."

"I hardly think I shall have time," said Tom haughtily. "He talks as if I were his equal!" he said to himself.

"Well, good afternoon. Remember me to your father."

Tom stared at Ben in surprise. Really the store boy was getting very presumptuous he thought.



CHAPTER XXXVIII CONCLUSION

On the evening of the nineteenth of December, Ben stood on the piazza of the village hotel when the stage returned from the depot. He examined anxiously the passengers who got out. His eyes lighted up joyfully as he recognized in one the man he was looking for.

"Mr. Dinsmore," he said, coming forward hastily.

"You see I have kept my word," said Harvey Dinsmore, with a smile.

"I feared you would not come."

"I wished to see the discomfiture of our friend Squire Davenport. So to-morrow is the day?"

"Yes."

"I should like to be on hand when the squire calls."

"That will be at twelve o'clock. My mother has received a note from him fixing that hour."

"Then I will come over at half-past eleven if you will allow me."

"Come; we will expect you."

"And how have you fared since I saw you, my young friend?"

"I have been wonderfully fortunate, but I have kept my good fortune a secret from all, even my mother. It will come out to-morrow."

"Your mother can feel quite at ease about the mortgage."

"Yes, even if you had not come I am able to pay it."

"Whew! then you have indeed been fortunate for a boy. I suppose you borrowed the money?"

"No; I earned it."

"Evidently you were born to succeed. Will you take supper with me?"

"Thank you. Mother will expect me at home."

At half-past eleven the next forenoon the stranger called at door of Mrs. Barclay. He was admitted by Ben.

"Mother," said Ben, "this is Mr. Harvey Dinsmore."

"I believe we have met before," said Dinsmore, smiling. "I fear my first visit was not welcome. To-day I come in more respectable guise and as a friend."

"You are welcome, sir," said the widow courteously. "I am glad to see you. I should hardly have known you."

"I take that as a compliment. I am a tramp no longer, but a respectable and, I may add, well-to-do citizen. Now I have a favor to ask."

"Name it, sir."

"Place me, if convenient, where I can hear the interview between Mr. Davenport and yourself without myself being seen."

Ben conducted Dinsmore into the kitchen opening out of the sitting room, and gave him a chair.

At five minute to twelve there was a knock at the outer door, and Ben admitted Squire Davenport.

"So you are home again, Benjamin," said the squire. "Had enough of the city?"

"I am taking a vacation. I thought mother would need me to-day."

"She will—to help her move."

"Step in, sir."

Squire Davenport, with the air of a master, followed Ben into the sitting room. Mrs. Barclay sat quietly at the table with her sewing in hand.

"Good-day, widow," said the squire patronizingly.

He was rather surprised at her quiet, unruffled, demeanor. He expected to find her tearful and sad.

"Good-day, Squire Davenport," she said quietly. "Is your family well?"

"Zounds! she takes it coolly," thought the squire.

"Very well," he said dryly. "I suppose you know my business?"

"You come about the mortgage?"

"Yes; have you decided where to move?"

"My mother does not propose to move," said Ben calmly.

"Oho! that's your opinion, is it? I apprehend it is not for you to say."

"That's where we differ. We intend to stay."

"Without consulting me, eh?"

"Yes, sir."

"You are impudent, boy!" said the squire, waxing wrathful. "I shall give you just three days to find another home, though I could force you to leave at once."

"This house belongs to my mother."

"You are mistaken. It belongs to me."

"When did you buy it?"

"You are talking foolishly. I hold a mortgage for seven hundred dollars on the property, and you can't pay it. I am willing to cancel the mortgage and pay your mother three hundred dollars cash for the place."

"It is worth a good deal more."

"Who will pay more?" demanded the quire, throwing himself back in his chair.

"I will," answered Ben.

"Ho, ho! that's a good joke," said the squire. "Why, you are not worth five dollars in the world."

"It doesn't matter whether I am or not. My mother won't sell."

"Then pay the mortgage," said the squire angrily.

"I am prepared to do so. Have you a release with you?"

Squire Davenport stared at Ben in amazement.

"Enough of this folly!" he said sternly. I am not in the humor for jokes."

"Squire Davenport, I am not joking. I have here money enough to pay the mortgage," and Ben drew from his pocket a thick roll of bills.

"Where did you get that money?" asked Squire Davenport, in evident discomfiture.

"I don't think it necessary to answer that question; but there is another matter I wish to speak to you about. When will you be ready to pay the sum you owe my father's estate?"

Squire Davenport started violently.

"What do you mean?" he demanded hoarsely.

Harvey Dinsmore entered the room from the kitchen at that point.

"I will answer that question," he said. "Ben refers to a note for a thousand dollars signed by you, which was found on his father's person at the time of his death."

"No such note is in existence," said the squire triumphantly. He remembered that he had burned it.

"You are mistaken. That note you burned was only a copy! I have the original with me."

"You treacherous rascal!" exclaimed the squire, in great excitement.

"When I have dealings with a knave I am not very scrupulous," said Dinsmore coolly.

"I won't pay the note you have trumped up. This is a conspiracy."

"Then," said Ben, "the note will be placed in the hands of a lawyer."

"This is a conspiracy to prevent my foreclosing the mortgage. But it won't work," said the squire angrily.

"There you are mistaken. I will pay the mortgage now in the presence of Mr. Dinsmore, and let the other matter be settled hereafter. Please prepare the necessary papers."

Suddenly the squire did as requested. The money was paid over, and Ben, turning to his mother, said:

"Mother, the house is ours once more without incumbrance."

"Thank God!" ejaculated the widow.

"Mr. Dinsmore," said Squire Davenport, when the business was concluded, "may I have a private word with you? Please accompany me to my house."

"As you please, sir."

When they emerged into the street Squire Davenport said:

"Of course this is all a humbug. You can't have the original with you?"

"But I have, sir. You should have looked more closely at the one you burned."

"Can't we compromise this matter?" asked the squire, in an insinuating tone.

"No sir," said Dinsmore with emphasis. "I have got through with rascality. You can't tempt me. If I were as hard up as when I called upon you before, I might not be able to resist you; but I am worth over ten thousand dollars, and—"

"Have you broken into a bank?" asked Squire Davenport, with a sneer.

"I have come into a legacy. To cut matters short, it will be for your interest to pay this claim, and not allow the story to be made known. It would damage your reputation."

In the end this was what the squire was forced very unwillingly to do. The amount he had to pay to the estate of the man whose family he had sought to defraud was nearly fifteen hundred dollars. This, added to Ben's four thousand, made the family very comfortable. Mr. Kirk was compelled to look elsewhere for a house. No one was more chagrined at the unexpected issue of the affair than Tom Davenport, whose mean and jealous disposition made more intense his hatred of Ben.



* * * * * * * * *



Several years have elapsed. Ben is in the office of a real estate lawyer in New York, as junior partner. All Mrs. Hamilton's business is in his hands, and it is generally thought that he will receive a handsome legacy from her eventually. Mrs. Barclay prefers to live in Pentonville, but Ben often visits her. Whenever he goes to Pentonville he never fails to call on Rose Gardiner, now a beautiful young lady of marriageable age. She has lost none of her partiality for Ben, and it is generally understood that they are engaged. I have reason to think that the rumor is correct and that Rose will change her name to Barclay within a year. Nothing could be more agreeable to Mrs. Barclay, who has long looked upon Rose as a daughter.

Tom Davenport is now in the city, but his course is far from creditable. His father has more than once been compelled to pay his debts, and has angrily refused to do so again. In fact, he has lost a large part of his once handsome fortune, and bids fair to close his life in penury. Success has come to Ben because he deserved it, and well-merited retribution to Tom Davenport. Harvey Dinsmore, once given over to evil courses, has redeemed himself, and is a reputable business man in New York. Mrs. Hamilton still lives, happy in the success of her protege. Conrad and his mother have tried more than once to regain their positions in her household, but in vain. None of my young readers will pity them. They are fully rewarded for their treachery.



Transcriber's comments: Typographical errors have been left as in the original book. Specifically, meaness, companoin's, housekeper

Repeated or incorrect words have been left as in the original book. For example how do do, turn to looked, worth fourth thousand

In a couble of places, the original material is illegible. This is marked in the text.

Occassional missing quote marks have been fixed.

Accented characters have been replaced with plain ones in matinee and protege.

THE END