"I don't want your two dollars, Philip," said Harry. "I am ready to release you without that——"

"Quick, then; that's a good fellow."

"Hear me out. I was going to say, on one condition."

"What is it?" asked Philip, impatiently.

"That you will beg my pardon for the trick you played on me," said Harry, quietly.

"What! I beg your pardon?" exclaimed Philip, haughtily.

"That is what I said."

"Do you think I would demean myself by asking anybody's pardon?" demanded Philip, his pride getting the better of his prudence.

"That is exactly what I expect, Philip Ross. If I had played such a mean trick on any one, I should think it no more than right to do just that thing."

"No," said Philip, stubbornly; "I won't do that, but I will give you the two dollars."

"I don't want your two dollars," returned Harry, contemptuously.

Two dollars was not so large a sum in his eyes as it would have been the day previous, for in the last twenty-four hours he had earned, and was confident of receiving, a reward of two hundred and fifty dollars. Still, even if this had not been the case, he would have disdained to sell his assistance to Philip.

"The money will do you a great deal more good than my asking your pardon," argued Philip.

"No, it won't. I am not very much in need of money, but I won't help a boy who has acted toward me as you have, unless you will apologize."

"Don't be a fool! Come and help me, and the money will be yours."

"It is no use, Philip; my mind is made up. Will you apologize?"

"No."

"Then, good-day! Give my respects to Mr. Temple when he returns."

So saying, Harry turned to leave the cabin, and Philip's heart sank in dismay as he saw the only one from whom he could hope for help leaving his presence.

"Hold on!" he called out. "I'll give you five dollars! I haven't got it with me, but I can get it from my father. I'll hand it to you to-morrow."

Philip hated to humble his pride, and he would rather have paid five dollars, even if it came out of his own pocket, than submit to such a humiliation.

"Good-by, Philip," said Harry, resolutely.

"Are you really going to leave me? That's mean."

"You know the condition on which I'll help you."

"I'll give you ten dollars!" exclaimed Philip, desperately.

"Not a cent! I won't take a cent from you! Either I will help you or leave you here, but no money shall pass between us."

There was a calm resolution in Harry's tone which at last convinced Philip that he was in earnest.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked, sullenly.

"That you are sorry for the mean trick you played on me, and ask my pardon."

"All right. Now untie me."

"You haven't said it."

"It's the same thing."

"I don't consider it so."

"Well, tell me what you want, then," said Philip, querulously.

"Repeat after me: 'I am sorry for the mean trick I played on you, and I beg your pardon.'"

Philip was perforce obliged to do as Harry required, and he repeated the words, though with a very bad grace.

"That will do," said Harry. "Now I am satisfied."

He felt for his knife, but did not have it with him.

He therefore knelt down, and set to work to untie the knots in the rope.

He succeeded at last, but not without considerable difficulty and the expenditure of not a little time. At last he loosened the last knot, and said:

"Now you are free."

Philip jumped to his feet—for these were the last to be released—with an exclamation of satisfaction.

"Thank goodness!" he cried; "now I am free, and can leave this miserable hut!"

He looked up, and his hopefulness was succeeded by quick dismay.

There, in the doorway, scowling at the two boys, was the master of the cabin.



CHAPTER XXVII

THE ARREST

Philip's face changed suddenly, and he uttered an exclamation of dismay. He really believed that his life was in danger.

"There he is!" he ejaculated, his eyes nearly starting out of his head.

Harry turned, and his glance, too, fell on the menacing face of the outlaw. But his face did not reflect the terror so plainly to be seen on Philip's. It should be remembered, however—for I do not wish to give our hero more credit than he really deserves for his courage—that he knew help was near at hand, and Philip didn't.

Ralph Temple didn't speak at first. Then he looked from Philip to Harry, and demanded, savagely:

"Who released that boy?"

"I did," answered Harry, undaunted.

"How dared you do it!" again demanded Temple, in the same tone.

"I thought he must be uncomfortable."

Temple looked at him as if puzzled to account for his cool courage. It was evident that here was a boy who would not be easily scared.

"Did you know that I tied him?" asked Temple, fiercely.

"Yes."

"And yet you dared to untie him?"

"Certainly. You had no business to tie him."

"What! you dare say this to my face?"

"Why shouldn't I? What did you tie him for?"

"Didn't he tell you?"

"No."

"Then I will, though it's none of your business. He stole my property."

"Did you do that, Philip?" asked Harry, who was not yet aware of Temple's suspicion.

"No; I hope to die. I did not!" answered Philip, solemnly.

"What does he say that you stole?" continued Harry.

"He says I stole a tin box, containing some bonds or something."

"I begin to understand," thought Harry. "Philip is suffering for what I have done. I must free him, if I can.

"Was the box in the cabin?" he asked, not considering it prudent to betray all that he knew.

"No; it was buried in the earth, out in the woods," said Philip.

"That's true," said Temple, with an oath. "It was all the property I had."

"It's a queer place to keep articles of value," said Harry, looking steadily at Temple.

"I shall keep my own property where I please," said Temple, doggedly. "You don't suppose I'd keep it here in this hut. It wouldn't be safe for twenty-four hours."

"Did you see Philip take it?" continued Harry, assuming, unconsciously, the tone of a judge or advocate.

"No; but I saw him prowling round near-by, and the earth had been disturbed. As for the tin box, that was gone, and he stays here till it is found."

As he spoke he approached Philip, to tie him anew.

"Oh, please don't tie me again, Mr. Temple!" pleaded the terrified boy. "Indeed, I didn't carry off your tin box. I didn't know you had any."

"Perhaps the box dug itself up and walked off," said Temple, with withering sarcasm. "You must think I am a fool. Somebody dug it up, and knows where it is now."

"It wasn't me."

"At any rate, it won't do any harm to tie you up until I find out more about it."

Temple picked up the rope which Harry had thrown on the floor, and was about to repeat his work, when Philip exclaimed, partly from the instinct of self-preservation, partly to gratify his mean spite against Harry:

"I shouldn't wonder if Harry Gilbert carried it off himself. He was prowling about the wood yesterday."

Harry could hardly believe his ears. This boy who accused him was the one he had just released from his bonds.

He looked at Philip, his face expressing the contempt he felt.

"I suppose this is to pay me for untying you?" he said.

"I can't help it; I am sure you did it," persisted Philip, thinking what a fine thing it would be for Harry to change places with him. "I am rich, and I have no need to steal. You are poor, and, I dare say, would like to get hold of Mr. Temple's bonds."

Temple paused a moment, and then said:

"The boy may be right. I'll tie both of you. One of you knows something about it, or I'm mistaken."

Philip's face fell. He had hoped to get free himself. It would be some satisfaction for him to see the boy he hated in the same plight, but still he would rather go free.

"Tie him first," he said.

It occurred to him that while Harry was being tied he might slip away.

"I know my own business best, youngster," said Temple.

And he made Philip sit down again in the chair from which he had been released.

"Don't you dare leave the cabin, unless you want to be brought back," he said to Harry. "Your turn will come next."

Harry did not answer, but coughed. It was the signal agreed upon between him and the officer outside.

Temple was on his knees beside Philip's chair, tying the boy, with his back toward the door. He listened to hear whether our hero made any attempt to escape, being prepared to pursue and bring him back by force.

He heard a slight motion, and looked around quickly.

There in the doorway stood a stranger, quietly covering him with a revolver.

Temple jumped to his feet, in surprise and alarm.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"I am an officer of the law, Ralph Temple, and I call upon you to surrender," said the stranger, coolly.

"An officer? I don't believe it. Where is your uniform?"

"I had my reasons for not wearing it. Do you surrender?"

"Why should I? What do you want of me?" asked the outlaw, uneasily.

"I want you for the theft of a tin box of bonds, taken from an office in New York."

"I know nothing about it," said Temple, hastily.

"That is too late! I have heard you charge that boy with stealing it from you. You admitted that you had concealed it in the wood."

"That was my own property. I have been robbed of it."

"You will have a chance to prove that in a court of law."

"I'll do that, if you'll let me alone."

"I have orders to arrest you."

"Then you'll have to show that you are a stronger man than I!" exclaimed Temple, with an oath, and he prepared to dash forward.

"Stay where you are, or I fire!" said the officer, sternly.

Temple looked in his eyes, and saw that he was dealing with a man of resolution. He knew something of faces, and he saw that this man would be as good as his word.

"What do you want of me?" he said, sullenly.

"You must go with me."

"Lead on, then. I'll follow."

"I must adopt a little prudential measure first, Harry, take these handcuffs."

Harry stepped forward and received them from the officer.

"Hold out your hands"—this was said to Temple—"and let this boy put on the handcuffs."

"I'll kill him before I'll allow him to do it!" exclaimed Temple, violently.

"I don't think you will, or even make the attempt," said the officer, quietly. "You forget that I hold your life in my hands," and he made a slight motion with the revolver.

"You wouldn't dare to shoot?"

"If you should prove to be mistaken, it would be a serious mistake," said the officer, quietly.

It was his very quietness and freedom from excitement that daunted Temple.

"You'll repent this!" he said. "You've got the whip hand on me now, but the time will come when I'll get even with you."

"I have been threatened before," said the officer, briefly. "Harry, do what I told you."

Temple sullenly held out his wrists, and Harry put on the handcuffs.

"Now, follow me!"

They went out of the cabin, Philip following. He tried to be social with Harry, but our hero had not forgotten his mean attempt to throw suspicion upon him, after a service received at his hands, and received his advances very coldly.



CHAPTER XXVIII

MR. CHASE IS BROUGHT TO JUSTICE

Temple's manner was sullen as he walked beside Harry and the officer, handcuffed. He overcame his sullenness, after a while, so far as to inquire:

"How came you to suspect me of this robbery?"

"Your friend Vernon has confessed it," answered the officer. "You may as well know, for it will do no harm."

"So he betrayed me?" said Temple, bitterly.

"He had no choice. He was trapped himself."

"Where is he now?"

"In prison, awaiting trial."

Temple looked better satisfied. He had suspected Vernon of turning State's evidence and betraying him.

"But how was he found out?" he asked, after a pause.

"The night you hid the tin box in the wood, there was some one who saw all that passed."

"Who was that?" asked Temple, eagerly.

"You will know in due time."

"Where are you taking me now?"

"To the county jail."

"Where is the tin box?"

"In the hands of the man from whom you stole it, There, I have answered your questions, and have no more to say."

"What do you think will be done with me?" asked Temple, anxiously.

The officer shrugged his shoulders.

"Gentlemen of your profession," he said, "are generally well informed on that point. If found guilty, you will be boarded at the expense of the county for a term of years."

"Curse the luck!" uttered Temple, savagely, and then was silent.

Philip had left them, and was on his way home, glad to get out of his predicament, but more incensed than ever against Harry for the mortification he had put upon him in compelling him to beg his pardon.

"I'll get even with him, see if I don't," he muttered.

When Harry and the officer had lodged their prisoner in jail, the latter said:

"I nearly forgot to tell you that Mr. Wheeler wishes you to call at his office to-morrow."

"In the morning?"

"As you please."

"I think I will go up by the morning train," said Harry, after a little reflection.

"Then you will be likely to meet me on the train. I shall be a passenger."

"I will look for you. I shall be glad to have company."

"By the way, that was very creditable work of yours, ferreting out the bond robbers."

"I was lucky, that is all," answered Harry, modestly.

"Partly so, but you have showed excellent judgment throughout, and personal bravery."

"Don't flatter me, Mr. Pry. You may make me conceited."

"You ought to be one of us."

"I don't think I should like it," said Harry, slowly.

"Perhaps not, but you're fitted for it, for all that. Well, good-day. I shall see you to-morrow."

"You are getting to be an important business man, Harry," said Uncle Obed, when our hero announced that he had a summons to the city next day.

"What is it all about, Harry?" asked his mother, rather puzzled.

"Let the boy explain in his own good time, Mrs. Gilbert," said the old man. "I know he isn't in any mischief."

"I may be able to tell you to-morrow evening, mother. It will be something that will surprise you."

"I suppose it is all right, Harry, as Mr. Wilkins says so."

"Yes, mother, I can assure you of that."

In due time Harry boarded the morning train. He looked through the cars till he found Mr. Pry, the detective, and took a seat beside him.

It was not long before his attention was called to a smooth, plausible voice, proceeding from a person who sat two seats in advance of the one he occupied.

"My dear sir, if it will be any accommodation to you, I will myself buy your bond, and pay you the market price."

There was something in the voice, and in the words, that attracted Harry's attention and excited his suspicions.

"Excuse me a moment," he said to the detective, and, passing through the aisle, reached a point where he could look back at the speaker.

He knew him at once, not only by his face, but by the profusion of rings upon his fingers. It was the same man that had cheated the poor farmer by giving him counterfeit money in payment for his coupons.

If, however, he had any doubt, it was set at rest by what followed.

"I don't know," said his seat companion, an industrious mechanic; "perhaps I'd better wait, and sell it in the city."

"As you please, my friend," said the young man. "I only made the proposal thinking I might accommodate you."

"Is that your business—buying bonds?" asked the mechanic.

"In the city, yes. I am a member of the well-known firm of Chase & Atkins. Of course, you have heard of them."

"Ye-es," answered the mechanic, doubtfully.

"I am Mr. Chase. We do a general banking and brokerage business. Let me see, what is the denomination of your bond?"

"Eh?"

"I mean, of what size? Is it a fifty, or a hundred?"

"It's only a fifty, sir. It was a present to my wife. Now she wants to use a little money, and so she has got me to sell it."

"We give rather higher prices than most brokers," said Chase, smoothly.

"How can you do that?" asked the mechanic, who was a man of good common sense.

"Well, you see, we ship 'em to Europe, and make a handsome profit. It would be for your advantage to sell to me; but you must act your own will."

The mechanic began to think more favorably of the proposal, and asked one or two more questions. Finally he said:

"Well, I don't know but I might as well. Have you got money enough with you?"

Chase took out a plethoric pocketbook, stuffed with bills, and called attention to it, smilingly:

"We bankers always have to be well provided with money."

The mechanic looked respectfully at the owner of so much money.

"I dare say it's more than I could earn in a year," he said.

"I dare say you are right, my friend," said the young man.

"Very well. Count out the money, and the bond is yours."

The exchange was made, and both parties seemed well satisfied.

Chase deposited the bond in an inside pocket and then, saying, carelessly, "I'll go into the smoking car for a few minutes," rose from his seat.

But in the meantime Harry had returned to his own seat, and whispered a few words in the ear of the detective.

The latter sharply scrutinized the young man who called himself Chase, and said, in a low voice:

"I know him now. He's an old offender. I thought there was something familiar in his appearance. I'll look after you, my fine fellow."

He waited till the exchange had been effected, and the young man was on the point of leaving the car.

Then he rose, and, hurrying forward, placed his hand on the young man's shoulder.

"A word with you, sir," he said.

"Really, sir, I don't remember you."

"Perhaps not. I remember you. Do me the favor to return that bond to the man from whom you obtained it."

"It is mine. I have paid for it."

"With counterfeit money."

"Do you mean to insult me?" demanded Chase; but there was a sudden pallor on his face and a tremor in his voice.

"That will do, Jimmy Neal. I told you I knew you. That is an old trick of yours."

"Who are you?" asked the detected swindler, in a faltering voice.

"Pry, the detective."

"Will you let me go if I restore this bond?"

"No; there is another case I must inquire into—that of a farmer from whom you bought some coupons a day or two since, paying him in the same worthless rags. Sit down here," pointing to a vacant seat. "You may consider yourself under arrest."

Great was the consternation of the mechanic when he learned how nearly he had been swindled, and profuse were his thanks to Harry and the officer.

"Be more prudent the next time," said the latter, "and don't sell bonds to a stranger in the cars again."

We may as well add that the traveling broker was duly tried, and sentenced to a term in State's prison, and that enough good money was found on him to repay the farmer for the coupons he had imprudently parted with.

Greatly to his satisfaction, Harry was intrusted with the office of acquainting Simon Jones with the pleasant fact that his money would be restored to him.



CHAPTER XXIX

HARRY BECOMES A "BONDHOLDER."

When Harry entered the office of Mr. Wheeler, the lawyer was engaged with a client. He nodded pleasantly to our hero, and said:

"I shall be at leisure very soon. You will find the morning paper on that table."

When his interview with the client was over, he beckoned to Harry to approach.

"Well," he said, "thanks to your good management, we have triumphantly succeeded. The stolen property is recovered, and the thieves are in custody."

"It was not so much good management as good luck," said Harry.

"Partly both; but, however that may be, the owner of the property authorizes me to make a substantial acknowledgment for the service you have rendered him. Let me see—the reward offered was two hundred and fifty dollars."

"That's too much, sir."

"The gentleman who gives it does not think so. Indeed, he authorizes me to somewhat exceed it. In this envelope"—here the lawyer produced a large-size package—"you will find two one-hundred-dollar government bonds and one fifty. The value of the three, at present prices, is nearer three hundred dollars than two hundred and fifty. I need not caution you to take good care of them."

"Are they for me?" asked Harry, his cheeks flushing with pleasure.

"Yes; they are six per cent. bonds, and will bring you fifteen dollars a year in interest—not quite enough to live upon," the lawyer added, with a smile, "but something to add to your income."

"I can hardly realize that I am worth so much money," said Harry, as he took the package and put it into his inside coat pocket.

"Have you a watch?" asked Mr. Wheeler.

"No, sir," replied Harry, in surprise.

"I thought not; and I, therefore, ask you to accept one as a gift, not from my client, but from me."

He produced a handsome silver watch, manufactured at Waltham, with a silver chain attached.

Now, Harry had long wanted a watch, but the prospect of obtaining one before he was of age had seemed very remote. At the moment, I think, the present of the watch gratified him as much as that of the bonds, though the latter were ten times as valuable.

"It is beautiful," he said; "but, Mr. Wheeler, why should you give me a present? The bonds were not yours."

"That is true, but they were under my charge, and I should have been seriously troubled had they not been recovered. Take the watch, my boy, and I hope it will please you as much to receive it as it does me to give it."

"Thank you, sir," said Harry, warmly. "It seems to me there is no end to my good fortune."

"Continue to deserve it, my boy, and I think it will continue. I must bid you good-morning now, as I have another appointment."

"Good-morning, sir, and thank you."

"By the way," the lawyer added, "I shall bear you in mind, and, should I have any work which I think you can do, I will send for you."

"I shall be glad to serve you in any way, sir."

So saying, Harry left the office. He was so much in a hurry to show his present at home that, though it was still early, he decided to take the next train, which would bring him home about noon.

His mother and Mr. Wilkins had just seated themselves at the dinner table when Harry entered.

"What! home already, Harry?" asked his mother, in surprise.

"I judge from your tone, mother, that you haven't got enough dinner for me," said Harry, gayly.

"If that's the case, I'll eat a little less," said Uncle Obed. "But why didn't you stay longer?"

"Because I got through with my business, and thought I might as well come home," answered Harry.

By this time his mother's eyes happened to fall on the silver chain displayed across his vest.

"What is that, Harry?" she asked.

Harry drew out the watch, with pardonable pride.

"Where did you get it?" asked his mother, in amazement.

"A lawyer in New York gave it to me."

"But what lawyer do you know, my son?" asked his mother, more and more bewildered.

"That isn't all, mother. Look at that!"

Harry drew out the package of bonds, and displayed them to his astonished mother.

She at once concluded that he had found them.

"They are not yours, Harry," she said. "If you found them, you must restore them to the owner."

"So I will, Mrs. Gilbert. I give these bonds to you, and recommend you to take good care of them."

"What does all this mean, Harry? You cannot give away what does not belong to you."

Harry felt that it was time to explain, and he did so. It was necessary to begin with the account of Philip's treatment of him in the wood.

Mrs. Gilbert was very indignant, and she spoke warmly.

"It was shameful!" she said. "To leave you there alone in the dark wood, tied hand and foot! The boy ought to be served in the same way himself!"

"Wait till I get through my story, mother," he said, "and perhaps you will find that Philip got into a little trouble of his own."

So he continued his story, and told, finally, of how he found Philip Ross bound, and trembling for his life, in the cabin of Ralph Temple.

"Served him right," said Mrs. Gilbert, satisfactorily.

"As things have turned out, I can afford to overlook his past meanness. He has suffered punishment, though not at my hands."

"If I had known that you were mixed up with burglars, I should have felt very anxious, Harry."

"I know it, and that is why I didn't tell you. However, all's well that ends well. The tin box is found, the robbers are caught, and I have a rich mother."

As he spoke, he put the bonds into his mother's hands.

"But, Harry, they are yours. I cannot accept them."

"Take care of them, at any rate, mother, and use the interest. I shall like it better than to keep them myself."

"You are a good boy, Harry," said Uncle Obed. "I like to see boys think considerable of their mothers. And now, if you are both ready for dinner, I am."

"Excuse me, Mr. Wilkins. I was so intent upon Harry's story that I am afraid the dinner is cold."

They sat down to dinner, and the meal was a very happy one, even if the dishes were somewhat cold. Harry's good luck put them all in fine spirits.

After dinner Harry went out into the village, in the direction of the store.

I suspect he wanted to show his watch, as most boys do when for the first time they become the proud possessor of one.

On the way he met Philip Ross and James Congreve. The latter he had not seen since they parted in the wood.

"There's our young captive, Philip," said Congreve.

"He's got a watch. At any rate, I see a watch chain," said Philip, whose curiosity was excited.

"Hello!" called out Congreve, as they met; "where did you get that watch?"

"I don't see wherein my having a watch should concern you; but I do know, after the contemptible treatment I received at your hands yesterday, your questions deserve no notice from me. But, as matters turned out so well, I can afford to swallow my indignation."

"It was rather a mean trick, leaving you bound in the wood," said Congreve, candidly. "I wouldn't have done it, except to oblige Philip."

"Has he told you how he liked being tied himself?"

Congreve looked, in surprise, at Philip. The latter had not chosen to say anything about his own adventure in Temple's hut.

When Harry told the story, not omitting to mention that he had compelled Philip to beg his pardon before he released him, Congreve burst into hearty laughter, while Philip stood by, angry and ashamed.

"That's the best joke I ever heard," said Congreve. "I wish I had been there to see."

"I thought you were my friend," said Philip, indignantly.

"I laugh at my friends sometimes," said Congreve. "What a splendid joke!"

Philip didn't see it in that light, and was so mortified that he didn't give Congreve an opportunity to ask further about the watch, but hurriedly moved on. All the remainder of the afternoon he passed in a sullen frame of mind.



CHAPTER XXX

CONGREVE'S SCHEME

James Congreve was a dangerous companion for Philip. He was utterly unscrupulous, but took care to keep up a semblance of propriety, in order not to terrify the boy whom he was leading into mischief.

They had commenced playing cards for amusement—at least, that was Congreve's pretext—but it had led to playing for a stake.

Occasionally, when the stake was small, Congreve allowed Philip to win; but, when more than a dollar was staked on the game, he generally managed to win himself.

Of course, Philip did not know that he was a victim, and that his chosen friend, Congreve, was a skillful sharper, who had practiced his art on Western steamboats, and was sure to get the better of him.

Why had he remained in this country village so long? Surely, it didn't pay him to fleece one victim, and that one a boy.

I can give the explanation.

He had been leading a fast life for a year back, and a physician whom he consulted had recommended country air and quiet for the summer.

"Unless you follow my directions, Mr. Congreve," he said, "I won't answer for your life. You have been going at too quick a pace altogether."

James was sensible enough to follow this advice, and that is why we find him a guest at the quiet village hotel.

The physician's advice proved to be good. His wasted energies were recuperated, his thin cheeks filled out and showed a healthy color, his appetite improved, and he felt himself again.

When the first week in September arrived, he felt that he was well enough to go back to the city, to more congenial scenes. He was heartily tired of the country, and anxious to get away. Only one thing remained to be done, and that was to collect what Philip owed him.

"I can't wait any longer," he said to himself. "I must compel the boy to pay up. It will liquidate my hotel bill and leave me something over. I can't let the thing stand any longer."

Soon after he had come to this conclusion, Philip entered his friend's chamber.

"How are you, Phil?" said Congreve, carelessly.

"All right!"

"By the way, I've got some news for you."

"What is it?"

"I'm going away."

"Going away? Where?"

"Back to the city first. I have an urgent summons from my friends there."

"How soon do you go?"

"That depends upon you."

"Upon me? I don't understand!" said Philip, puzzled.

"You ought to. As soon as you have paid me what you owe me. I need it to enable me to settle up at the hotel."

Philip turned pale. It was just what he had worried over many a time—this terrible debt, which he felt utterly unable to liquidate.

"How much is it?" he asked, nervously.

"How much? Really, I haven't reckoned it up yet; but I will," said Congreve, carelessly.

He took out his wallet, and drew out a variety of papers, to which Philip's signature was attached.

Then he sat down at a table, took a pencil from his pocket, set the different sums on paper, and added them up deliberately. All this was humbug, for he had added it up before Philip came in, and knew to a dollar how much it amounted to. Philip stood by, feeling miserably uncomfortable, while the reckoning went on.

"Really," said Congreve, looking up at length, in assumed surprise, "I had no idea it amounted to so much!"

"How much does it come to?" questioned his wretched dupe.

"One hundred and thirty-six dollars," was the calm response.

"A hundred and thirty-six dollars!" gasped Philip.

"Yes; surprising, isn't it? Little sums count up, you know. However, we've had some fun out of it, haven't we?"

"I don't see where the fun comes in," said Philip, bitterly. "Of course, it's fun for you to win so much."

"You won some of the time, Phil. Think how many games we have had, and how exciting it was. You play a good deal better game than you did."

"But I have lost a big pile of money."

"Oh, yes. Experience costs money, you know. You'll get it all back, and more, too, some day."

"How can I, when you are going away?"

"I don't mean out of me. I suppose my game is better than yours. I mean out of somebody else."

Philip was silent. The hope held out did not seem to comfort him much.

"When will you pay me that money, Phil?" asked Congreve, abruptly.

"When? I'm sure I don't know. I haven't any money, you know."

"That won't do. It isn't satisfactory," said Congreve, assuming a sternness he had never before exhibited toward his friend.

"What do you mean?" asked Philip, half frightened, half offended.

"I mean that I need the money, and must have it."

"I'd pay it to you if I had it, but I haven't."

"You must get it."

"How can I? My father won't give it to me."

"Listen to me. I am in earnest. I want to ask you a question. Suppose you had won, wouldn't you have expected me to pay you?"

"Why, yes, I suppose so."

"Well, it's a poor rule that doesn't work both ways. I tell you, Phil, I need that money. I need it to pay my hotel bill."

"Was that what you depended upon to pay your bills?" asked Philip, with awakening suspicion. "I thought you had plenty of money."

This was what Congreve had represented to his dupe, but the question by no means disconcerted him.

"Of course," he said; "but a man can't always command his resources. I have sent in two different directions for money, but they have put me off, so I have to fall back on you."

"I'd like to pay the money, and get it off my mind," said Philip, uncomfortably, "but the fact of it is I can't."

"This is a debt of honor. Gentlemen always pay their debts of honor. It takes precedence of all other claims."

"I have no other claims. That is all I owe to anybody."

"Well, when can you let me have the money?"

"I am sure I don't know," returned Philip, sullenly. "I didn't expect you were going to press me so."

James Congreve saw that Philip had reached the point which he desired.

"I press you because I have to," he said. "I have already told you how you can settle the claim."

"How?" asked Philip, uneasily.

He could guess, for there had been conversation on that point before.

"You know what I mean. Get hold of some of your father's government bonds," said Congreve, insinuatingly.

"I don't want to become a thief."

"Pooh! Isn't he your father, and ain't you an only son? Won't it all be yours sometime?"

"Yes, but——"

"Oh, don't bother with buts! That makes all the difference in the world."

"I couldn't do it without being suspected," objected Philip, with whom this was the principal consideration.

"Yes, you can. You'll give the bonds to me, and I will dispose of them. If you could get hold of two hundred-dollar bonds, I would give you the balance, after deducting the amount of my debt."

"But I am sure to be suspected."

"Unless you throw the suspicion upon some one else."

"How can I?"

"There's your friend, Harry Gilbert——"

"He isn't my friend."

"Well, your enemy, then. So much the better. You can say you saw him prowling round the house. If you could get him arrested, it would be a satisfaction, even if he wasn't convicted."

"That's true. I should like to get even with him."

"So you can. You can throw suspicion on him, and get off free yourself. It will be a splendid revenge."

Philip began to think favorably of the scheme, arid before he left the hotel had agreed to it.



CHAPTER XXXI

THE TEMPTER

Philip was far from being a model boy—as we have seen, he didn't shrink from meanness—but it was not without reluctance that he assented to James Congreve's proposal. He did not feel that abhorrence of theft that a better principled boy would have done, but the thought of resorting to it gave him a sense of humiliation. Besides, the fear of detection inspired in him a certain uneasy feeling. In fact, he retraced his steps, and sought Congreve in his room again.

"What! back again?" asked James, in surprise.

"Yes," replied Philip. "I've changed my mind. I don't want to do what you proposed to me."

"Don't want to do it?" repeated Congreve, frowning. "What nonsense is this?"

"No nonsense at all," retorted Philip, not liking his friend's tone. "I don't want to be a thief."

"You won't be. It's all in the family, you know."

"What if it is? Father won't take that view of it."

"That won't matter to you."

"Why not?"

"Because he won't know you took the bonds. You're not going to tell him."

"He may find out."

"Look here, Phil. You're the biggest coward I ever met!"

"If you think so, suppose you do it yourself," said Philip. "That'll show whether you are a coward or not."

"That's absurd. It wouldn't be in the family then. The bonds don't belong to my father. There wouldn't be any excuse for me."

"You want me to do what you are unwilling to do."

"You already explained why. Besides, I've no object in taking them. As for you, why they are part yours already; and, besides, you need the money you can raise out of them to pay your debts."

"I haven't any debts, except to you."

"So much the better for you," answered Congreve, coolly. "You won't have any one to pay except me."

"I wish I'd never made your acquaintance," said poor Philip.

"Very complimentary, upon my word!" replied Congreve, with a sneer. "It strikes me that you have got as much pleasure out of the acquaintance as I."

"I haven't got you into my debt."

"It isn't my fault if I am a better player at cards than you. However, that's neither here nor there. I don't propose to play any more with you. I ought not to have let you run up such a score. Just pay that off, and I won't trouble you any more."

"I've told you I can't pay you."

"Except in one way, and that way is an easy enough one. Listen to reason, Phil," he said, dropping his sneer. "Don't you see it is going to benefit you as well as me? You'll have a good deal of money left for your own use, after paying me, provided you take two hundred-dollar bonds. It will be convenient to have fifty or sixty dollars in your pocket, eh?'

"Yes," assented Philip, more cheerfully.

"Of course it will, and it will be fun to see Harry Gilbert hauled up for stealing them. Ho! ho! ho!"

Philip echoed the laughter. This phase of the transaction certainly did please him.

"If it can be brought about," he said, doubtfully.

"Of course it can. Listen, and I'll tell you how. You can tell your father you saw Harry acting suspiciously near the house the evening it is done."

"But the door would be locked."

"You can unlock it, and leave it unlocked all night. It will be found so in the morning; and, even if the bonds are not immediately missed, the circumstance will be remembered."

Philip's mind changed again. The plan looked more feasible and attractive as Congreve represented it.

"Well, I don't know but I'll try it," he said.

"I thought you'd be sensible," said Congreve, inwardly rejoiced. "Now, let me give you one piece of advice."

"What is that?"

"Strike while the iron's hot. If you want to know what that means, never put off till to-morrow what you can do to-day."

"You don't mean I should go right home and do it?" said Philip, nervously.

"No; wait till to-night—when everybody is in bed. Then steal downstairs and do the job. The sooner it's over, the better!"

"I'll see about it," replied Philip, hesitatingly.

"He's a little coward," said Congreve to himself; "but I guess I can bring him to it."



CHAPTER XXXII

PHILIP DOES NOT FEEL HAPPY

At supper time Philip seemed so sober and preoccupied that his mother said:

"What ails you, Philip?"

"Nothing. What makes you ask?"

"I thought you were looking unusually sober."

"I suppose it is because I have a headache," answered the boy.

It was not a falsehood, for the burden upon his mind had actually given him a slight headache.

"You'd better let me mix you some chamomile tea," said Mrs. Ross, with whom this was a specific against more than one bodily disability.

"No, thank you," answered Philip, with an involuntary grimace; for, in his younger days, when it was useless to resist, he had more than once had an opportunity of learning how far from agreeable chamomile tea was to the taste. "It doesn't ache much. It will be better soon."

"The tea will cure you immediately, my son."

"I won't take it," said Philip, roughly.

"Don't speak in that way to your mother, Philip," said his father, reprovingly.

"Do you ever let her give you chamomile tea, father?"

"No," smiled the Colonel, "I don't require it."

"Nor I; and, if I did, I prefer the headache."

"I am not sure whether I don't agree with you," said his father, smiling again.

When supper was over, Philip lounged about restlessly. Nothing could be done as yet—nothing, indeed, till his father had retired and was fairly asleep—and, in the meantime, he had to wait in suspense.

He strolled out to the stable without any definite object to take him there. He was in an unquiet, irritable frame of mind, which was likely to exhibit itself on the smallest provocation.

A boy of seventeen, Tom Calder by name, was employed by Colonel Ross to look after his two horses and attend to any errands or light duties that might be required about the house.

Philip, as he entered the stable, saw Tom sitting on a kitchen chair, which had been transferred to the stable, engaged in reading a weekly paper.

"What are you doing there, Tom?" he demanded, in an imperious tone.

If Philip had asked in a civil tone, Tom would have answered him with civility, but the boy's tone was offensive, and Tom was too spirited to bear it.

"What's that to you, Phil?" he retorted.

"You'll find out what it is!" answered Philip, angrily.

"That's just what I'm wanting to do."

"And don't you presume to call me Phil, either."

"Why—isn't it your name?"

"Yes; but it isn't for you to call me by it."

"What am I to call you, now?"

"You can call me Master Philip, or Mr. Philip."

"Ho! ho! It's a joke you're playing on me!"

"No, it isn't. It is your duty to treat me with respect. But you haven't answered my question."

"What is it?"

"What are you doing there?"

"Reading a paper. Can't you see for yourself?"

"That isn't what my father pays you for. Go right to work."

"Shure, you want me to work day and night! That's what Tom Calder won't do for no man last of all for a boy like you!"

"If you ain't careful, my father will send you away."

"If he does, I'll get another place soon," said Tom, indifferently.

"You're an impudent loafer!"

"The same to yourself," said Tom, indifferently.

After a little further altercation, Philip walked off in dudgeon. It was clear that he couldn't bully Tom.



CHAPTER XXXIII

STEALING THE BONDS

Contrary to his usual custom, Philip spent the evening at home; and, as he must have something to occupy him, he spent it in reading. Usually, he cared very little for reading, and was prone to spend the evening out.

Mrs. Ross regarded her son with approval, as she saw him steadily reading all the evening.

"I do believe you're getting studious, Phil," she said.

"I'm interested in a story," remarked Phil.

"How much better it is to spend the evening at home reading than to be gadding about?" said his mother.

"Well, you know a boy can't be always reading," observed Philip.

If Mrs. Ross had been a close observer, she might have noticed that Philip got over wonderfully few pages. Indeed, he sometimes held the book open at the same place for half an hour together. The fact was that Philip cared very little for reading, unless he could get hold of some highly sensational story about highwaymen or pirates. He simply used the book as a cover.

The Colonel, his father, was sitting in a room which he called his office, opening out of the family sitting-room, and Philip had seated himself so that he could look into that room, and watch what his father was doing.

Near his desk, Colonel Ross kept a small, iron-bound trunk, which he used as a sort of safe, or a repository for valuable papers, and sometimes for bonds and securities. It was imprudent, for anyone might readily have carried it off; but the Colonel didn't think of this, or, at any rate, didn't feel inclined to go to the expense of a safe. Indeed, most of his bonds and securities were deposited in the strong room of the county bank, and, therefore, his imprudence was less.

Philip's eager attention was roused when he saw his father rise from his desk, take up the trunk and open it, as it lay on the desk where he placed it.

"Now, I may find out what he has inside," thought Philip.

Colonel Ross opened it, as I have said, and took out several envelopes. Opening one of these, he drew therefrom what Philip recognized to be government bonds, and spread them out before him.

What was the object of this examination, Philip could not divine, nor did he particularly care, though he might had he known that his father was considering the expediency of selling them, and buying another security—the stock of a certain railroad—which would pay larger dividends. His main interest was to ascertain whether his father had any government bonds, and this question he was now able to answer in the affirmative.

After a brief inspection, Colonel Ross replaced in the trunk the securities he had taken from it, and locked the trunk. The bunch of keys, one of which opened the trunk, he laid on the desk, unconsciously, probably.

"I hope he'll forget 'em," said Philip to himself. "It'll save me a good bit of trouble."

It seemed likely that the keys would be forgotten, for Colonel Ross, as though his business were ended, took the lamp from his desk, and entered the sitting-room, where his wife and son were seated.

"I don't know how it is, wife," he said, "but I feel sleepy."

"It isn't your bed hour yet. It is only half-past nine."

"That is true, but I shall go to bed earlier than usual to-night."

"All the better for me," thought Philip. "Now, if mother would only go, too!"

It seemed as if everything was turning out favorably for his plan, for his mother answered:

"Well, I think I will accompany you—that is, if Philip won't feel lonely."

Philip's heart beat with eager satisfaction. He had expected that he would be obliged to go to bed, and wait there till his father and mother were asleep, then steal downstairs, running the risk of detection, light a lamp, and commit the theft. Now it looked as if he could do it much more easily.

He answered, in as indifferent a voice as he could assume:

"I am not at all sleepy. I'll stay up a little longer and read."

Mrs. Ross nodded, in a satisfied way, to her husband.

"I do believe Phil's getting fond of reading," she said.

"I hope he is," returned the father.

"Phil," said his mother, "the servant is out tonight. A cousin of hers is sick, and I gave her permission to stay with her all night. Are you willing to close up the house?"

"Oh, yes," answered Phil, briskly. "I'm glad she's away," he thought. "She won't be spying round and see what I'm about. Besides, I can leave the door open, so that it will be easier to accuse Harry Gilbert."

"Good-night," said his mother.

"Good-night, mother."

"Don't stay up too late reading."

"No, I won't."

"How many more pages are there, Philip?" asked his father.

"About four hundred," answered Phil, looking over to the end.

"Then I wouldn't advise you to sit up till you've finished the book," he said, jocosely.

"I guess not. I shan't sit up more than half an hour."

So Colonel and Mrs. Ross went upstairs, and the coast was clear.

When he was left alone, and felt that the hour so long anticipated had come, Philip's heart beat fast.

"Come; it's easier than I hoped," he said to himself. "And father left his keys, too, on the desk. I hope he won't think of them, and come downstairs after them. That might upset my plans, though I've got a lot of old keys in my pocket, and one of them might answer. However, there's none so good as the real thing."

Philip had to consider whether he would wait till his father and mother were asleep, or act sooner. He at length decided, in the words of Shakespeare, though he was not familiar with them:

"If 'twere done with when 'tis done, Then, 'twere well it were done quickly."

The argument was this: If he acted soon, he could make use of his father's keys, and that would save him trouble. On the other hand, there was some risk that his father might think of them, and, coming downstairs, surprise him. However, Philip didn't think this was likely, and, in any event, he resolved to take the risk. He could pretend that he had just caught sight of his keys, and was going to carry them upstairs for safekeeping.

Indeed, Philip did not wait more than ten minutes.

"Father must be in bed by this time," he said to himself.

He took the small lamp by which he was reading, and entered his father's office.

There lay the keys, and there stood the trunk.

He took the bunch of keys and selected a small one, which he thought likely to fit the trunk.

It did.

The lid was lifted, and Philip, with eager hand, took the envelope which he knew contained the government bonds. It was a bulky envelope, and contained probably eight or ten bonds.

Of course, Philip didn't venture to take all. He selected two, of one hundred dollars each, and replaced the others in the envelope, and afterward in the trunk.

He put the bonds in his inside coat pocket, and, hastily refastening the trunk, replaced the keys on his father's desk.

He breathed a sigh of relief to think the thing was done, and walked over to the window.

What was his gratification to see Harry Gilbert walking by on the other side of the street.

"All happens right," he said. "Now, Harry can't say he was at home. I'll fix him. I'll say I saw him at the window, looking in, and his denial won't amount to much, when he admits, as he will, that he was near the house."

He would have felt differently had he seen the face of Tom Calder peering in at one of the side windows. Tom had spent the evening in the village, and was now on his return to his chamber, on the second floor of the stable. His attention was attracted by the light in the room, and, as the curtain was partly raised, he took the liberty of peering in, unobserved.

"By gracious!" he exclaimed, in amazement. "Phil is stealing gov'ment bonds from his father. He's a bad one, but I didn't think that of him."

Tom slipped out, resolved to consider at his leisure what he had better do about imparting his secret information. It was well he did, for Phil himself almost immediately came to the same window.



CHAPTER XXXIV

PHILIP GETS RID OF HIS PLUNDER

"Philip," said his mother, at the breakfast table the next morning, "the servant tells me she found the outside door unlocked this morning. Didn't I ask you to lock it before you went to bed?"

"So you did, mother. I really hope you'll excuse me. When I got ready to go to bed, I forgot all about it."

"It might have proved serious," remarked his father, "for I found this morning that I had left my bunch of keys on my desk. I don't see how I came to be so negligent."

"It's lucky no burglar or dishonest person knew of it," said Mrs. Ross. "You might have met with a serious loss."

"So I might, for I had about a thousand dollars' worth of government bonds in my trunk, besides certificates of various kinds of stock. The latter would have done no one any good, though the loss would have annoyed me, but the government bonds might readily be sold."

"I shouldn't think you'd keep the trunk downstairs, father," said Philip, who felt easy, as there seemed no likelihood of suspicion being fixed upon him.

He resolved so to act as to divert any future suspicion.

"I don't know but it is imprudent," said Colonel Ross.

"Of course it is," said his wife. "You deserve to suffer loss."

"I will take it upstairs hereafter," said her husband, "especially," he added, jocularly, "if Philip is to be trusted to lock the front door."

Philip smiled, but his smile was not exactly an easy one, for he was every minute apprehensive that it would occur to his father to open the trunk and examine the contents. He did not want this to happen till he was out of the way, for it would be rather a trial to his nerves to hear the announcement made of the loss, while he knew that the missing bonds were concealed in his inside coat pocket.

Philip was in a hurry to see Congreve, and get rid of his troublesome deposit. He hurried through his breakfast, therefore, and rose from the table.

"You've eaten very little, Phil," said his mother.

"Oh, I'm not hungry," said Philip, carelessly. "I didn't get up early enough to raise an appetite."

"You got up as early as usual," said his father.

"Perhaps reading in the evening didn't agree with me," replied Philip, smiling.

"Where are you going?" asked his mother.

"Just out for a walk."

"Will you call at the grocery store and tell them to send up a barrel of flour?"

"All right."

Usually Philip, who was far from obliging naturally, made a fuss when asked to do an errand, but now he spoke very good-humoredly. He was so anxious to get out of the house that he was ready to promise anything.

"I really think Philip is improving," said his mother, after he had gone out.

"There's some room for it," remarked his father, dryly.

Philip, as may be supposed, made his way as quickly as possible to the hotel. As he came up, he saw the one of whom he was in search—James Congreve—standing on the piazza, smoking a cigarette.

"Well?" he said, guessing something from the evident excitement of Philip's manner.

"Let us go up to your room, Congreve," said Phil.

"All right."

He led the way upstairs to the small room which he occupied as a bedroom, and Philip followed him in. The latter carefully closed the door.

"I've got 'em," he exclaimed, triumphantly.

"The bonds? You don't say!"

"As true as you stand there."

"Let me see them."

Philip drew the bonds from his pocket, and handed them to Congreve.

The latter said, joyfully:

"You're a trump, Phil!"

"Yes, I think I managed pretty well," said Phil, complacently.

"Tell me how you did it."

So Phil explained.

"You were in precious luck, I can tell you. I had no idea things would turn in your favor so. Let me see—here are two one-hundreds."

"Yes; that's what you said."

"True. Were there more in the trunk?"

"Yes; I heard father say there were a thousand dollars in bonds."

James Congreve's face was overspread by an expression of covetousness.

"It's a pity you didn't take more," he said.

"But what was the need of taking more? These will pay my debt to you."

"Of course. Still, it seemed such a good chance."

"You don't think I'm going to set up as a thief, do you, Congreve?" asked Philip, in surprise.

"No, of course not. I didn't mean anything. Well, Phil, the sooner these are disposed of the better."

"You are going to attend to that?"

"Yes. I believe I will take the next train up to the city."

"When will you be back?"

"To-night. I will bring you the balance of the money—say, fifty dollars."

"There ought to be more than that for me."

"Oh, it will be all right! Only, you know, I will have to sell them below the market price, at some place where no questions are asked."

"I've no doubt you'll do the square thing," said Philip, who did not know that this statement of Congreve's was only a flimsy pretense to enable him to appropriate a larger share of the plunder, as it may fairly be called.

"I'll promise you fifty dollars, whatever the bonds bring," said Congreve.

"Thank you."

"Now, I must get ready, for the next train leaves for the city in half an hour."

"I'll go along with you to the depot," said Philip.

"No, you'd better not. After the loss is discovered, it might excite some remark, and possibly suspicion, if it were remembered."

"Then I'll be going. I've got an errand over at the store. Shall I see you to-night?"

"You'd better not come around till to-morrow morning. It may help avert suspicion."

"Just as you say."

"A pretty good haul!" said Congreve to himself. "I didn't think the little fool would have spunk enough to do it, but he has. I may pay him that fifty dollars, and then again I may not. I don't think I shall care to come back again to this dull hole to-night. I shall have to leave my trunk, but it isn't worth the sum I owe the landlord, and he is welcome to it. With the price of these bonds I can start anew cheaper."

Philip left his friend, without the least suspicion that he intended to play him false. He felt very comfortable. He had got the bonds out of his possession, so that there was no danger of their being found on him, and he was to receive, the next morning, fifty dollars, a larger sum than he had ever possessed at one time in his life. He made up his mind that he would put it away in his trunk, and use it from time to time as he had occasion for it.

He went to the grocery store, and left his mother's order. Then he took an aimless walk, for Congreve was away, and there was no one else he cared to be with.

So he turned to go home. He rather dreaded to enter the house, lest his father might have discovered his loss. In the yard he saw Tom Calder. Tom, remembering what he had seen the evening before, looked at Philip with a significant grin, but said nothing.

"What are you grinning at?" demanded Philip,

"Nothing. I feel gay and festive, that is all," responded the stable boy.

"Where's my father?"

"He went out to ride in the buggy."

Philip felt relieved. Evidently the loss had not been discovered yet. He was glad to have it put off.

"Is there any news?" asked Tom, with another grin.

"News? Why should there be any?"

"I don't know. I thought you might know of some."

"You talk like a fool," said Philip, angrily, and went into the house.

"There'll be some news soon, I reckon," said Tom to himself, with a grin. "I won't say nothing till the time comes. Wonder if Philip'll think I am talking like a fool then?"



CHAPTER XXXV

THROWING SUSPICION ON HARRY

During the day Colonel Ross had no occasion to look into his trunk of securities. Clearly, he had no suspicion that he had met with a loss.

It might strike the reader as curious that Philip began to be impatient to have his father make the discovery. An impending blow always leads to a state of suspense which is by no means agreeable. When the blow falls, a certain relief is felt. So Philip knew that the discovery would be made sooner or later, and he wanted to have the matter settled, and clear himself at once from suspicion by diverting it to Harry Gilbert.

In the hope that his father would find out his loss, he lingered round the house through the afternoon, filling up the time as well as he could. Usually, he would have passed at least a part of the time with James Congreve, but the latter had gone to the city.

"Don't you feel well, Philip?" asked his mother.

"Certainly! What makes you ask?"

"You don't generally stay at home all the afternoon."

"Oh, well, there isn't anything going on in the village."

"Where is that friend of yours who is staying at the hotel?"

"He went away this morning to the city."

"Isn't he coming back?"

"Oh, yes, I suppose so."

"I suppose you feel lonely without him?"

"Yes, mother."

"Have you seen anything of Uncle Obed lately?" asked Mrs. Ross, making a wry face as she pronounced the word admitting the relationship.

"Yes; I saw him walking with the Gilbert boy the other evening."

"Did you speak to him?"

"No; I just nodded. I don't care about getting intimate with him. I wish he'd leave town."

"As likely as not, he'll use up all his money, and then come on your father for help."

"I hope father won't give him anything, then," said Philip.

"I am willing that he should give him enough to get him back to Illinois. He ought never to have left there. If he thinks we are going to pay his board here, all I can say is that he is very much mistaken," said Mrs. Ross, pressing her thin lips together with emphasis.

"That's the talk, ma! I am glad you don't mean to be imposed upon. I suppose old Wilkins thinks you are soft, and won't see him suffer. You'd better keep a stiff upper lip."

"He will know me better after a while," said Mrs. Ross.

The afternoon wore away, and supper came. Philip partook as usual, and waited afterward in the confident expectation that his father would open the small trunk. He was not mistaken.

Upon retiring to his special apartment, Colonel Ross took up the trunk, and, producing the key, opened it.

It so happened that he was after some papers, and did not immediately take up the envelope containing the government bonds. Philip was rather afraid he wouldn't, and ventured to remind him of them by a question.

"How many government bonds have you in that envelope, pa?" he asked.

"A little over a thousand dollars," answered Colonel Ross.

"Will you let me look at one? I want to see how it looks."

This question led the colonel to open the envelope. He took out a bond and handed it to Philip.

"Are these coupons?" asked Philip, who knew perfectly well, but only wanted to fix his father's attention.

"Yes, they are promises to pay interest semiannually. In January and July I cut off one of these little slips, and receive the interest it represents in gold."

"That's very convenient, isn't it?"

"Yes, for I can get the coupons cashed at any bank or broker's office."

Almost mechanically, he began to draw out the bonds and count them. But his air of inattention was quickly replaced by a look of surprise and anxiety. He counted the bonds over again, more deliberately, but each time the number came short two.

"That's strange," he said, in a low tone.

"What is strange, pa?"

"Two bonds seem to be missing," said his father, in a tone of concern.

"I've got one, you know, in my hand."

"Yes, yes. I reckoned that."

"How large were they? Is it much of a loss?"

"One hundred dollars apiece, and each worth a hundred and fifteen dollars, on account of the premium. Do you know anything about them?" and Colonel Ross fixed a piercing eye on his son.

"I, pa? How should I know anything about them? Why, I didn't know exactly how they looked. When did you see them all last?"

"Last evening. I happened to count them then."

"They must have been taken from the trunk since then."

"Then I am almost sure I know how it happened," said Philip, suddenly, as if a light had dawned upon him.

"I should like to have you tell me, then."

"You remember, pa, you left the keys on the desk?"

"Yes; but there was no one here except you," and again the father had suspicion of his son.

"I hope you don't think I'd do such a thing as that?" said Philip, virtuously. "But I am afraid it is my fault, for I left the outside door unlocked all night. Any one might have come in and stolen the bonds."

"That is true; but why didn't they take more, or all? You didn't see any one round when you went to bed, did you?"

"Yes, I did," answered Philip, with well-feigned eagerness. "Just as I was going to bed, I went into the next room, where the trunk is, and, turning to look out of the window, I was quite startled to see Harry Gilbert's face close to the window. The light shining through the doorway was quite strong enough for him to see the trunk and keys lying on your desk. It's as sure as can be that he took the bonds. You see, he could slip in after I went upstairs, and there was nothing to prevent. He might have been lurking around when you were examining the bonds last night, and saw you place them back in the envelope."

"What is all this about?" asked Mrs. Ross, entering the room at this point.

It was explained to her, and she instantly adopted her son's view.

"Phil's hit the nail on the head, I do believe," she said. "I didn't think he was so sharp. Colonel Ross, I have no doubt the Gilbert boy took the bonds."

"Then, why didn't he take more?" asked Ross.

"Oh, he got frightened—thought he heard a noise, or perhaps he thought it would not be discovered so quick if he only took two. There are reasons enough."

Philip and Mrs. Ross assumed so confident a tone that Colonel Ross, though at first inclined to discredit the charge, ended by believing it very probable.

"This thing must be attended to," he said. "What are you going to do about it, pa?"

"I shall go before Justice Slocum, and get a warrant to search Widow Gilbert's house. If I find anything, I shall have Harry arrested."

"Now, you're in a scrape, Harry Gilbert," said Philip to himself, exultantly.

"I guess I'll go along with you, pa," he said, aloud, "and see if James Congreve has got back from the city."



CHAPTER XXXVI

HARRY IS CHARGED WITH THEFT

Philip called at the hotel, and inquired, with considerable confidence, if "Mr. Congreve" was in.

"He has not returned," answered the landlord.

"Then he won't be back to-night," said Philip, feeling considerably disappointed.

"No; the last train is in."

"I wonder if he had any trouble in selling the bonds," thought Philip; but this thought was one to which he didn't think it prudent to give expression.

He walked home slowly, while Colonel Ross kept on his way to the modest home of the Gilberts. We will precede him.

The little family was gathered in the plain sitting-room. There were but three—Mrs. Gilbert, Harry and Uncle Obed.

The old man—to begin with the oldest first—was sitting in a rocking chair, with his hands folded in his lap, and an expression of placid contentment on his face. He had reached the age when rest is agreeable, and was satisfied to sit through the evening, now watching Harry or his mother, and now occupied with thoughts of earlier days and distant scenes. He was thoroughly satisfied with the new home he had found, plain and humble though it was. Indeed, perhaps, for that very reason, it suited him better.

Mrs. Gilbert was sewing. She had time enough to sew for some of her neighbors, and in that way earned a moderate sum for herself, though, as the family was now situated, she could have dispensed with it.

Harry was reading a "Life of Benjamin Franklin," which he had taken from the Sunday school library, and was evidently deeply interested in it.

"What are you reading, Harry?" asked the old man, after a while.

"Franklin's life, Uncle Obed."

"You couldn't read anything better. Old Ben is a good model for American boys. He was a great man."

"So he was, Uncle Obed; and he began poor, too."

"Sarten, sarten! Poor boys make the smartest men—that's my observation."

"Then I've got one thing in my favor," said Harry, smiling.

"And you will succeed, too; I make no doubt of it. You've made a pretty good beginning already."

"Thank you, Uncle Obed, for your favorable opinion. I hope I shall deserve it."

"You're worth half a dozen boys like Philip Ross. I reckon he'll never amount to much."

"He doesn't think so," said Harry, smiling. "He thinks himself a very important character."

"Like enough! He looks like it. He doesn't care to own me as a relation."

"It would be different if you were rich, Uncle Obed."

"Mebbe so. I think so myself. Thank the Lord, I ain't beholden to him or his family for any favors. They wanted to send me home to Illinoy. I was too unfashionable for them, I expect, but I've found a home—yes, I've found a good home."

"I am glad we succeeded in making it comfortable for you, Mr. Wilkins," said Mrs. Gilbert, looking up from her sewing.

"You do, ma'am," said the old man. "I ain't been so well taken care of for years as I am now. I wish I could do something to show my gratitude."

"The money you pay us is of great service. It makes the largest part of our income. I am only afraid you pay too much."

"No, I don't," said Uncle Obed. "Money isn't of much vally, compared with a good home. If I ain't as rich as my niece, I can afford to pay fair board. When a man's turned seventy, as I have, the best money can do for him is to give him a happy home."

Mrs. Gilbert and Harry were pleased to find their boarder so contented. The money he paid weekly, with unvarying punctuality, made things easy for the widow, and relieved her of the anxiety which she had constantly felt before his arrival.

The conversation above recorded was scarcely over, when a knock was heard at the front door—a sharp, peremptory knock—as of one who demanded admittance, rather than requested it.

All looked up, with some surprise, for it was now eight o'clock, and they did not often have evening callers.

"I will go to the door, mother," said Harry. "You need not interrupt your sewing."

So Harry opened the outer door, and, considerably to his surprise, saw standing on the step the dignified figure of Colonel Ross.

"Colonel Ross!" he exclaimed, in surprise.

"I will come in a few minutes," said the Colonel, stiffly.

"Certainly, sir. Excuse my not inviting you."

"It is very excusable—under the circumstances," said the Colonel, stiffly.

"What does he mean?" thought Harry. "I can't tell what circumstances he refers to."

"Mother," said he, opening the door of the sitting-room, "here is Colonel Ross."

"Take a seat, Colonel Ross," said the widow, politely.

Colonel Ross seated himself deliberately in a chair near his wife's uncle.

"Glad to see you, Mr. Ross," said Uncle Obed, thinking the visit was meant for him. "You're very kind to look in on an old man."

"I—well, my visit this evening has a different object."

"Oh, come to see Mrs. Gilbert! Well, how's Lucinda?"

"Mrs. Ross is enjoying her usual health," said Colonel Ross, ceremoniously.

"Glad to hear it," said the old man. "She hasn't called on me yet, though I'm the only relation she's got within a thousand miles."

"Mrs. Ross is very much occupied," said her husband, coldly. "However, you will excuse me if I proceed to the object of my visit. I regret to say that last evening the trunk in which I keep a part of my securities was opened, and two government bonds abstracted."

"You don't say so!" exclaimed Mr. Wilkins, really surprised. "When did it happen?"

"Sometime in the evening or night. The outer door was left unlocked, through the neglect of my son, Philip, who sat up later than his mother or myself. Unfortunately, I had myself carelessly left my bunch of keys, including the key to this trunk, on my desk, so that the thief found his work very easy."

"You and Philip were both careless. Have you got track of the rogue?"

"I think I have," answered Colonel Ross, in a significant tone.

"I'm glad on't. These fellows ought to be caught. I don't have much sympathy for a thief."

"I am glad to hear you say so," said Colonel Ross.

"You didn't think I had, did you?" asked the old man, puzzled.

"I thought you might have, when you came to know who it was I suspect."

"I don't see as that will make any difference. Who is it?"

"My son, just before retiring, saw a person prowling round the house, and looking into the window. Doubtless, he saw the bunch of keys, and was tempted to enter and steal the bonds."

"Have you arrested him?"

"Not yet; but probably I shall before long."

"Who is it, Colonel Ross?" asked Mrs. Gilbert, with interest.

"Madam," said the Colonel, slowly, "it pains me to say that the person seen prowling round my house, and looking in at my window, was your son, Harry!"

"Harry!" ejaculated the widow, scarcely thinking she had heard aright.

"It's ridiculous!" exclaimed Uncle Obed.

"Colonel Ross," said Harry, rising to his feet, and confronting the visitor, with clear eyes and an expression of honest indignation, "do you mean to say that you suspect me of stealing any of your property?"

"Young man, I advise you not to be impudent or brazen-faced. Do you mean to deny that you were near my house last evening between half-past nine and ten o'clock?"

"No, I don't. I did pass your house about that time."

"I am glad you have the sense to own it. You may as well confess the rest—that you entered through the unlocked door, opened my small trunk, and took out two government bonds of a hundred dollars each."

"Whoever charges me with that utters a falsehood," said Harry, boldly. "I passed your house, but I did not enter it, and did not even look in the window, and it is news to me that the door was unlocked, or the keys on the desk. In fact, I didn't know you had a trunk in which you kept your bonds."

"Of course you deny it," said Colonel Ross, "but I think it entirely likely that the stolen bonds are at this very moment hidden beneath this roof."



CHAPTER XXXVII

SEARCHING THE COTTAGE

"Colonel Ross, your suspicions are very insulting and entirely unwarranted," said the Widow Gilbert, with a flush on her usually pale cheek.

"Of course I knew you would not believe anything against your son, whom you believe to be a model," said Colonel Ross, with a sneer.

"So he is—a model!" said the widow, warmly.

"Then all I can say is that there is a strong reason to suspect that this model son of yours is a thief."

"I deny it."

"I notice, however, that you are afraid to have the house searched."

"I have never expressed any unwillingness."

"Then I understand that you give your consent."

"I do."

"Very well. Then allow me to call in a party not interested, who will attend to that duty."

Colonel Ross went to the outer door, and, opening it, called:

"Constable, you are wanted!"

At this summons a tall, stout man—Mr. Rogers, the village constable—came forward, as it seemed, rather reluctantly.

"Constable," said Colonel Ross, "Mrs. Gilbert has given her consent to have the house searched for the bonds which were abstracted from my trunk last evening."

"Mr. Rogers," said Mrs. Gilbert, who knew the constable well, "Colonel Ross has made a cruel and unwarranted charge against Harry. I hope you don't believe he is a thief."

"I don't," said the constable, bluntly. "I've known your boy ever since he was a baby, and I never knew him to do a mean thing."

"Constable," said Colonel Ross, angrily, "it does not become you to screen the guilty or make excuses for him."

"It strikes me you're rather too fast, Colonel Ross, in making him out guilty. What proof have you of it?"

"My son's word."

"Oh!" said the constable, expressively.

"You have only to do your duty and search the house, and I venture to predict that the evidence will be forthcoming that will convince even you."

"Mrs. Gilbert," said the constable, "I hope you'll excuse me for obeying the Colonel. I have to do it, you know."

"Do your duty, Mr. Rogers. We are not afraid to have the house searched from top to bottom."

"I don't want to disturb your things, Mrs. Gilbert. Suppose you go round and open everything to us."

"If that will be satisfactory to Colonel Ross. I want him satisfied."

"As long as I am present, with a right to examine, I shall not object."

"It seems to me, Colonel Ross," remarked Uncle Obed, "you are not treating the boy right."

"It is immaterial to me what you think, Mr. Wilkins," replied the Colonel, with asperity.

"Mebbe so," said the old man. "I calculate it won't always be so. The time may come when you will care more for my opinion."

"You flatter yourself unduly, Mr. Wilkins, I assure you."

"Mebbe so," answered the old man, not appearing at all discomposed by the rude tone of his niece's husband.

"We will begin here, gentlemen," said Mrs. Gilbert.

So saying, she went about from place to place down below, opening whatever drawers there were, even in the pantry, and revealing nothing that looked like the bonds.

"I didn't expect they were downstairs," said the Colonel.

"Then we will go upstairs. You shall not say that we have concealed anything or shrunk from any investigation."

"Very well."

Mrs. Gilbert thereupon led the way upstairs, and the search began. Finally, they came to her own bureau. The upper drawer was opened, and the sharp eyes of the Colonel detected a large envelope. It was the one that contained the bonds which had been presented to Harry for his service in ferreting out the burglars in the wood.

Singular as it may seem, neither Harry nor his mother had thought of them, and the false inference that might be drawn from their discovery. It was natural, therefore, that each should look startled and discomposed.

"Ha! what have we here?" demanded Colonel Ross, clutching the envelope.

"Those are my property," said Harry, who was the first to recover his self-possession.

"I will take the liberty to examine. Ha! government bonds, as I live. Constable, what do you say now?" demanded the Colonel, triumphantly.

The constable, who knew nothing of Harry's gift, looked very uncomfortable indeed. Despite his belief in Harry's honesty, he was staggered by this apparent evidence to the contrary.

"What is this, Mrs. Gilbert?" he asked.

"They are bonds belonging to Harry. He speaks the truth."

"A likely story," exclaimed Colonel Ross. "Really, Mrs. Gilbert, your conduct is most extraordinary. I begin to think you had some knowledge of your son's act."

"Colonel Ross, don't you dare to insult my mother," said Harry, so fiercely that the Colonel retreated a little, under the impression that our hero intended to make an insult upon him.

"Be careful, boy," he warned. "I've caught you red-handed in the commission of a crime that may send you to State's prison. You'd better take heed what you say!"

"Mr. Rogers," said Mrs. Gilbert, "that envelope contains government bonds that belong to my son. Ask Colonel Ross how many he lost."

"Two bonds of a hundred dollars each," answered the Colonel. "And here they are," he continued, producing two bonds of that denomination from the envelope.

"Look again. See if there are no more," said Harry.

The Colonel, evidently surprised, produced a fifty.

"Do you mean to say that you lost that, also?" inquired Harry.

"No," replied the Colonel, evidently puzzled; "you must have got that from somewhere else."

"I got the whole somewhere else," said Harry.

"It is entirely useless, Harry Gilbert, to attempt to impose upon me by any such ridiculous story. As to the extra bond, I don't know where it came from. Perhaps your mother had it before. It doesn't alter the fact that I have found my stolen bonds in your possession."

"When did you lose your bonds?" asked Uncle Obed, who thought it time to "put in his oar," as he afterward expressed it.

"Last evening."

"You're sure you had 'em up to that time, are you?"

"Yes; I looked them over, and counted them early in the evening."

"Then, all I can say is that the bonds you've got in your hands have been in the house several days. Harry showed them to me when he first got 'em."

"Really, Mr. Wilkins, I don't like to doubt the word of an old man like you; but, sir, your statement is absolutely incredible."

"It is true," said Mrs. Gilbert. "I, too, assert the same thing."

"Then you are all in a conspiracy," said Colonel Ross, in a passion.

"And you have evidently plotted the ruin of an innocent boy," said Mrs. Gilbert, with spirit.

"You have always pretended to be poor," continued Colonel Ross, "and now you expect me to believe that your son owns nearly three hundred dollars' worth of bonds!"

"I do, for it is true."

"Where did he get them?"

"They were given him."

"Utterly absurd! People don't often give boys such presents as that. Constable, I call on you to arrest that boy."

"Where is your warrant, Colonel?"

"Arrest him on suspicion."

"I could not do it."

"Then you mean to connive at his escape?"

"No; I'll stay here to-night, if you insist upon it."

"Do so, and I will take the bonds."

"Lay them down, Colonel Ross; they are my property!" said Harry, sternly.

"You can't be allowed to take 'em, Colonel, till you prove that they are yours. One you admit is not," said the constable.

"It doesn't matter much," replied the Colonel, discomfited. "They will find their way back to me soon. This boy won't take on so high a tone tomorrow."



CHAPTER XXXVIII

PHILIP'S SURPRISE

"Where did that other bond come from?" thought Colonel Ross, as he wended his way homeward. "I can't understand it. Perhaps the boy took it from some one else. It is just possible that his mother may have owned a fifty-dollar bond."

To do Colonel Ross justice, he really thought that the bonds he had discovered were his own, and he was convinced, by what his son had told him, that Harry had really entered his house on the night when the outer door had been left open and abstracted them.

Philip, disappointed at not finding his friend Congreve at the hotel, took his way home, and was already in the house when his father returned. He was naturally curious to hear something of the result of his errand.

"Well, father," he said, eagerly, as the Colonel entered the room where he was seated, "what luck did you have?"

"I found the bonds," said his father, briefly.

Nothing could have astonished Philip more, knowing what he did as to the manner in which they had really been disposed of. He looked the picture of amazement.

"Found the bonds!" he ejaculated.

"Certainly! What is there remarkable about that?"

"And Harry Gilbert really had them?" said Philip, not knowing what to think.

"Of course!"

"Where were they found?"

"In the bureau drawer in his mother's room."

"What can it mean?" thought Philip, in a whirl of amazement. "I gave them to Congreve to carry to New York, and how in the world could Gilbert have got hold of them? There must be some mistake somewhere."

"What did Harry say when you found the bonds?" he asked.

"He denied that they were mine; said they were his."

"But where could he get them?"

"That is the question. He said they were given to him, or some such ridiculous nonsense, and his mother actually backed him up in this preposterous statement."

"I was never so astonished in the whole course of my life!" said Philip; and he spoke the honest truth.

"You, my son, are entitled to great credit for your vigilance, and you apprising me that the boy was prowling about the house on the evening in question. I shall make you a present of ten dollars."

"Oh, thank you, father," said Philip, his eyes expressing his delight, as his father drew from his pocketbook two five-dollar bills and placed them in his hand.

"At any rate, it has turned out pretty lucky for me," he thought to himself. "All the same, it is a puzzle where those bonds came from. Congreve wouldn't go and give them to Harry? No, of course not! Well, the best I can do is to keep mum."

"There is one circumstance that rather puzzles me," said the Colonel, reflectively.

"What is it, father?"

"I only miss two hundred-dollar bonds, and I found in the boy's possession a fifty-dollar bond in addition. That is certainly singular."

"So it is," said Philip, showing his own surprise.

"He must have stolen that from some other party," continued the Colonel.

"As like as not," chimed in Philip, glibly. "Have you got the bonds with you?" he asked, after a pause. "Did you bring them back?"

"No. Rogers, the constable, said I could not take them till I had proved them to be my property. He is a stupid old countryman, and knows nothing about law. He was evidently prejudiced in favor of the Gilberts."

"Well, what did you do with Harry?"

"He ought to have been taken to the lockup, but the constable didn't want to do it, and I agreed that he might stay in the house, under guard of the constable, of course, for I apprehended the boy might make an effort to run away."

"Did he seem much frightened?" asked Philip, curiously.

"No; he seemed very indignant at being suspected. Of course, it was all put on. He was actually insolent, and defied me to take the bonds. I suppose he thought he could put me off the scent by his bravado."

"What are you going to do to-morrow?" asked Philip.

"I shall have him taken before a magistrate, and shall formally charge him with the theft."

"What did Uncle Obed say?" inquired Philip, suddenly.

"It really is of very little consequence what that old man said," returned Colonel Ross, stiffly. "Of course, he sided with the Gilberts, and he actually had the effrontery to say that the bonds had been in the house for several days."

"He couldn't have given the bonds to Harry, could he?"

"Of course not. The man is a pauper, or about the same as one. Every day I expect he will come to me to ask pecuniary assistance."

"Will you give him any money if he does?"

"Yes; enough to get him back to Illinois. He ought never to have left there."

Philip went to bed in a state of wonderment, but at the same time in a state of satisfaction. Suspicion had been diverted from him, the real culprit, and the boy whom he hated more than any other was likely to suffer for his misdeeds.

If he had had a conscience, this thought ought to have made him uncomfortable, but it did not. He thought, rather, that under cover of this charge made against another, he and Congreve would be free to use the proceeds of the stolen bonds, and he began even to plan in what way he would spend his portion.

Meanwhile, a very different scene took place in the cottage of the Gilberts, after the Colonel had taken his leave.

"I hope, Mr. Rogers," said Mrs. Gilbert to the constable, "you don't believe my boy guilty of this base deed which the colonel charges upon him?"

"I've always thought highly of Harry, ma'am," said the constable, "and I can't think now he'd take anything that wasn't his; but it is rather strange that them bonds should be found in this house now, ain't it?"

"No, indeed. Is the Colonel the only man in town that owns bonds?"

"I expect not; though, so far as my own experience goes, I know I ain't got any. I always thought—begging your pardon, Mrs. Gilbert—that you was poor, and now what am I to think?"

"You needn't think I am rich; but Harry owns those bonds, and they are the reward of his own good conduct. Would you like to hear how he came by them?"

"Yes, ma'am, if you don't mind telling me."

"I don't mind telling you, though I didn't choose to tell the Colonel."

Whereupon, Mrs. Gilbert related the story of the tin box secreted in the wood, and how, through Harry's prompt action, those who had purloined it had been brought to justice.

"You've got a smart boy, Mrs. Gilbert," said the constable, admiringly. "I couldn't have done as well myself. There won't be any difficulty in clearing Harry now."

"What would you advise, Mr. Rogers?"

"Nothing at present; but if we find it necessary to-morrow, we can get that lawyer's testimony, which will certainly clear Harry of this charge."



CHAPTER XXXIX

HOW CONGREVE SUCCEEDED

Philip would not have felt flattered if he had been able to read the thoughts of his friend James Congreve, when the latter was riding away from the village where he had been boarding, toward the great city.

"That's the last I shall ever see of the young snob, I hope," he said to himself. "I've got all I can out of him, and now I wash my hands of him. I wish him joy of waiting for me to-night. It'll be many a long day before he sees me or the balance of the bonds."

James Congreve settled back in his seat, bought a paper from the paper boy on the train, and began to read in a very comfortable frame of mind.

From time to time he put his hand on the inside pocket in which he had placed the bonds, to make sure of their safety, for no one knew better than he that there were dishonest persons to be met with who were willing to appropriate valuables belonging to others.

It was some time since he had been so well off as he would be when he had converted these bonds into money. Indeed, all the summer long he had been short of funds, or he would not have spent so long a time in a country village, which to him was dull and afforded him a small field for his peculiar talents.

Arriving in New York, Congreve took his way to Wall Street. Here it was that he expected to get rid of the bonds, or, rather, exchange them for greenbacks.

In this street brokers' and bankers' offices abound, and all negotiable securities readily find a purchaser. He stepped into an office nearly opposite the opening of New Street, and, approaching the counter, said, as he drew out his bonds:

"What are you paying for government sixes?"

"Let me see the date," said the clerk. He spread open the bonds, and then answered: "One hundred and fifteen and three-eighths."

"Very well," replied Congreve. "I will sell them."

The clerk took them and stepped to the desk, to make an entry of the purchase.

"What name?" he asked, turning to Congreve.

"John Baker," said Congreve, with momentary hesitation.

For obvious reasons, he thought it best not to mention his own name, as trouble might possibly come from the possession of the bonds.

"Shall I give you a check?" was the next question.

"I would prefer the money," answered Congreve.

"Go to the cashier's window, and he will attend to you."

"Not much trouble about that," thought Congreve, complacently, when he was startled by a voice at his elbow.

"How are you, Congreve?"

Looking around hastily, he saw a hand extended, and recognized a young man who had at one time been a fellow-boarder with him in Fourteenth Street. It is safe to say that James Congreve wished him anywhere else at that most unfortunate time.

"Hush!" said he, in a subdued whisper; "I will speak to you outside."

He hoped the clerk had not heard the name by which he had been addressed; but he hoped in vain. The latter, pausing in his writing, came to the counter and said:

"Didn't this gentleman call you Congreve?"

"Yes," admitted Congreve, uneasily.

"You just gave your name as John Baker."

"Oh, no! That is, I didn't say my name was John Baker. That is the gentleman for whom I am selling the bonds."

"Then they do not belong to you?"

"No."

"Where does Mr. Baker live?"

"In New Haven," answered Congreve, glibly, for he had a ready invention.

"We do not care to buy," said the clerk, coldly, for there was something in Congreve's manner which made him suspicious.

"Really," said Congreve, laughing in a constrained manner, "you appear to be very cautious."

"We have to be."

"Shall I tell Mr. Baker it will be necessary for him to come to New York in person to dispose of his bonds? He is my uncle, and I simply am doing him a favor in disposing of them."

"Very possibly; but I think we won't purchase them."

"Oh, well! I can carry them elsewhere," said Congreve, raging inwardly.

His acquaintance, whose recognition had interfered with his plans, followed him to the door, in rather a perplexed frame of mind.

"Where have you been all summer, Congreve?" he asked, thinking it best to ignore the scene which he had just witnessed.

"None of your business," answered Congreve, sharply.

"What does this mean?" asked the young man, in astonishment.

"It means, sir, that I do not wish to keep up my acquaintance with you. Didn't you know any better than to blurt out my name just now, and so get me into trouble?"

"If you are ashamed to appear under your real name, I don't care to know you," answered the young man, with spirit. "So, good-morning to you, Mr. Congreve, or Mr. Baker, or whatever else you call yourself."

"Good riddance," said Congreve.

"There's something wrong about that fellow," said Tom Norcross to himself, as he looked after Congreve, while the latter was crossing the street. "I don't believe he came by those bonds honestly. His manner was certainly very suspicious."

Congreve entered another banking house, and here he had no difficulty in disposing of his bonds. He came out with two hundred and thirty dollars in his pocket, and feeling less irritable than before.

"So that's done," he said to himself, "and I am well provided with money for the present. Now I must make up for lost time, and try to enjoy myself a little. I was nearly moped to death in that dull country village, with no better company than a young snob. Now to see life!"

First of all, Congreve installed himself at a fashionable boarding house uptown. Then he purchased a seat for the evening's performance at Wallack's Theater, and then sought out some of his old companions in haunts where he knew they were likely to be found. He had a few games of cards, in which his luck varied. He rose from the card table a loser in the sum of twenty-five dollars.

"That is unlucky," thought Congreve. "However, I've got two hundred dollars left. I must be more cautious, or my money won't last long."

Still, he felt in tolerably good spirits when he went to the theater, and enjoyed the performance about as much as if his pleasures were bought with money honestly earned.

It so happened that the clerk at the first banking house who had refused to purchase the bonds sat two rows behind him, and easily recognized his customer of the morning.

"I suspect Mr. Baker, alias Congreve, has disposed of his bonds," he thought to himself. "I am really curious to know whether he had any right to sell them."

From time to time this thought came back to the clerk, till he formed a resolution quietly to follow Congreve, after the close of the performance, and ascertain where he lived.

Congreve, seated in front, was not aware of the presence of the clerk, or he might have taken measures to defeat his design.

When James Congreve left the theater, he was at first inclined to stop at Delmonico's on the way uptown, and indulge in a little refreshment; but he felt somewhat fatigued with his day's travel, and, after a moment's indecision, concluded instead to return at once to his boarding place.

"He lives in a nice house," said the clerk to himself. "Let me notice the number. I may find it desirable to know where to find him."

To anticipate matters a little, word came to New York in the afternoon of the next day that two bonds, the numbers of which were given, had been stolen from Colonel Ross, and search was made for the young man who was suspected of having negotiated them. The clerk, who, previous to returning the bonds to Congreve, had taken down the numbers, at once identified them as the ones referred to, and gave information to the police.

The result was that just as Congreve was sitting down to supper on the evening of the second day, he was informed that a man wished to see him at the door. On answering the call, he saw before him a small man, of quiet manner, dressed in a sober suit of black.

"You name is Congreve, I believe?" he said, politely,

"Yes, sir," answered James, in a hesitating tone.

"Then I must trouble you to go with me."

"I have just sat down to supper."

"I am really sorry to disturb you, but you are charged with selling two stolen bonds in Wall Street yesterday."

"There is some mistake," said Congreve, hurriedly. "Colonel Ross sent me the bonds by his son, with a request that I would sell them for him."

"Glad to hear it," said the detective, laconically. "Then you will be able to clear yourself. Meanwhile, you must come with me."

And James Congreve spent the night in a boarding house by no means fashionable.



CHAPTER XL

PREPARING TO PROSECUTE

"I am going to the bottom of this affair," said Colonel Ross, as he sipped his second cup of coffee at the breakfast table the next morning. "The Gilbert boy must suffer the consequences of his crime."

"Will he be sent to prison, pa?" inquired Philip.

"It is a State's prison offense, my son," answered his father.

Was it on Harry's account that Philip suddenly turned pale and looked nervous? I cannot credit him with a sufficient amount of feeling for another. He could not help recalling the fact that it was he and not Harry who had been guilty of this State's prison offense.

"However, the thing can't possibly be traced to me," he reflected, somewhat more comfortable in mind. "I don't know as I care whether Harry Gilbert goes to prison or not. He is very proud and stuck-up, and it will take down his pride."

"I commend your decision," said Mrs. Ross, to her husband. "In my opinion, mercy would be misplaced in such a case as this. The boy who is degraded enough to steal is likely to continue in his criminal course, and the sooner he is punished the better."