Did Mrs. Merton suspect anyone of the theft? This is the question which will naturally suggest itself to the reader.
No thought of the real thief entered her mind. Though she was fully sensible of Harold's faults, though she knew him to be selfish, bad-tempered, and envious, she did not suppose him capable of theft. The one who occurred to her as most likely to have robbed her was her recently returned nephew, Warner Powell, who had been compelled to leave Chicago years before on account of having yielded to a similar temptation. She knew that he was hard up for money, and it was possible that he had opened the table drawer and abstracted the pocketbook. As to Luke Walton, she was not at all affected by the insinuations of her niece. She knew that Mrs. Tracy and Harold had a prejudice against Luke, and that this would make them ready to believe anything against him.
She was curious, however, to hear what Warner had to say about the robbery. Would he, too, try to throw suspicion upon Luke in order to screen himself, if he were the real thief? This remained to be proved.
Warner Powell did not return to the house till five o'clock in the afternoon. His sister and Harold hastened to inform him of what had happened, and to communicate their conviction that Luke was the thief. Warner said little, but his own suspicions were different. He went up stairs, and made his aunt a call.
"Well, aunt," he said, "I hear that you have been robbed."
"Yes, Warner, I have lost some money," answered the old lady, composedly.
"Louisa told me."
"Yes; she suspects Luke of being the thief. Do you agree with her?"
"No, I don't," answered Warner.
Mrs. Merton's face brightened, and she looked kindly at Warner.
"Then you don't share Louisa's prejudice against Luke?" she said.
"No; I like the boy. I would sooner suspect myself of stealing the money, for, you know, Aunt Eliza, that my record is not a good one, and I am sure Luke is an honest boy."
Mrs. Merton's face fairly beamed with delight. She understood very well the low and unworthy motives which influenced her niece and Harold, and it was a gratifying surprise to find that her nephew was free from envy and jealousy.
"Warner," she said, "what you say does you credit. In this particular case I happen to know that Luke is innocent."
"You don't, know the real thief?" asked Warner.
"No; but my reason for knowing that Luke is innocent I will tell you. The money was safe in my drawer when I went out this morning. It was taken during my absence from the house. Luke was with me during this whole time. Of course, it is impossible that he should be the thief."
"I see. Did you tell Louisa this?"
"No; I am biding my time. Besides, I am more likely to find the real thief if it is supposed that Luke is under suspicion."
"Tell me truly, Aunt Eliza, didn't you suspect me?"
"Since you ask me, Warner, I will tell you frankly that it occurred to me as possible that you might have yielded to temptation."
"It would have been a temptation, for I have but twenty-five cents. But even if I had known where you kept your money (which I didn't), I would have risked applying to you for a loan, or gift, as it would have turned out to be, rather than fall back into my old disreputable ways."
"I am very much encouraged by what you say, Warner. Here are ten dollars. Use it judiciously; try to obtain employment, and when it is gone, you may let me know."
"Aunt Eliza, you are kinder to me than I deserve. I will make a real effort to secure employment, and will not abuse your confidence."
"Keep that promise, Warner, and I will be your friend. One thing more: don't tell Louisa what has passed between us. I can, at any time, clear Luke, but for the present I will let her think I am uncertain on that point. I shall not forget that you took the boy's part where your sister condemned him."
"Louisa and Harold can see no good in the boy; but I have observed him carefully, and formed my own opinion."
Warner could have done nothing better calculated to win his aunt's favor than to express a favorable opinion of Luke. It must be said, however, in justice to him, that this had not entered into his calculations. He really felt kindly towards the boy whom his sister denounced as "sly and artful," and liked him much better than his own nephew, Harold, who, looking upon Warner as a poor relation, had not thought it necessary to treat him with much respect or attention. He had a better heart and a better disposition than Mrs. Tracy or Harold, notwithstanding his early shortcomings.
"Who could have been the thief?" Warner asked himself, as he left his aunt's sitting room. "Could it have been Harold?"
He resolved to watch his nephew carefully and seek some clew that would lead to a solution of the mystery.
"I hope it isn't my nephew," he said to himself. "I don't want him to follow in the steps of his scapegrace uncle. But I would sooner suspect him than Luke Walton. They say blood is thicker than water, but I confess that I like the newsboy better than I do my high-toned nephew."
"Have you made any discovery of the thief, Aunt Eliza?" asked Mrs. Tracy, as her aunt seated herself at the evening repast.
"Nothing positive," answered the old lady, significantly.
"Have you discovered anything at all?"
"I have discovered who is not the thief," said Mrs. Merton.
"Then you had suspicions?"
"No definite suspicions."
"Wouldn't it be well to talk the matter freely over with me? Something might be suggested."
"I beg your pardon, Louisa, but I think it would be well to banish this disagreeable matter from our table talk. If I should stand in need of advice, I will consult you."
"I don't want to obtrude my advice, but I will venture to suggest that you call in a private detective."
Harold looked alarmed.
"I wouldn't bother with a detective," he said. "They don't know half as much as they pretend."
"I am inclined to agree with Harold," said Mrs. Merton. "I will act as my own detective."
Save for the compliment to Harold, Mrs. Tracy was not pleased with this speech of her aunt.
"At any rate," she said, "you would do well to keep a strict watch over that boy, Luke Walton."
"I shall," answered the old lady, simply.
Mrs. Tracy looked triumphant.
Warner kept silent, but a transient smile passed over his face as he saw how neatly Aunt Eliza had deceived his astute sister.
"What do you think, Warner?" asked Mrs. Tracy, desirous of additional support.
"I think Aunt Eliza will get at the truth sooner or later. Of course I will do anything to help her, but I don't want to interfere."
"Don't you think she ought to discharge Luke?"
"If she did, she would have no chance of finding out whether he was guilty or not."
"That is true. I did not think of that."
"Warner is more sensible than any of you," said Mrs. Merton.
"I am glad you have changed your opinion of him," said Mrs. Tracy, sharply.
She was now beginning to be jealous of her scapegrace brother.
"So am I," said Warner, smiling. "At the same time I don't blame aunt for her former opinion."
The next morning Harold was about leaving the house, when Felicie, the French maid, came up softly, and said: "Master Harold, may I have a word with you?"
"I am in a hurry," said Harold, impatiently.
"It is about the stolen money," continued Felicie, in her soft voice. "You had better listen to what I have to say. I have found out who took it."
Harold's heart gave a sudden thump, and his face indicated dismay.
"You have found out who took the money?" stammered Harold.
"Yes."
"I didn't think it would be found out so soon," said Harold, trying to recover his equanimity. "Of course it was taken by Luke Walton."
"You are quite mistaken," said Felicie. "Luke Walton did not take it."
Harold's heart gave another thump. He scented danger, but remained silent.
"You don't ask me who took the money?" said Felicie, after a pause.
"Because I don't believe you know," returned Harold, "You've probably got some suspicion?"
"I have more than that. The person who took the money was seen at his work."
Harold turned pale.
"There is no use in mincing matters," continued Felicie. "You took the money."
"What do you mean by such impertinence?" gasped Harold.
"It is no impertinence. If you doubt my knowledge, I'll tell you the particulars. You opened the drawer with one of a bunch of keys which you took from your pocket, took out a morocco pocketbook, opened it and counted the roll of bills which it contained, then put the pocketbook into your pocket, locked the drawer and left the room."
"That's a fine story," said Harold, forcing himself to speak. "I dare say all this happened, only you were the one who opened the drawer."
"I saw it all through a crack in the half-open door," continued Felicie, not taking the trouble to answer his accusation. "If you want further proof, suppose you feel in your pocket. I presume the pocketbook is there at this moment."
Instinctively Harold put his hand into his pocket, then suddenly withdrew it, as if his fingers were burned, for the pocketbook was there as Felicie had said.
"There is one thing more," said Felicie, as she drew from her pocket a bunch of keys. "I found this bunch of keys in your room this morning."
"They are not mine," answered Harold, hastily.
"I don't know anything about that. They are the ones you had in your hand when you opened the drawer. I think this is the key you used."
"The keys belong to you!" asserted Harold, desperately.
"Thank you for giving them to me, but I shall have no use for them," said Felicie, coolly. "And now, Master Harold, do you want to know why I have told you this little story?"
"Yes," answered Harold, feebly.
"Because I think it will be for our mutual advantage to come to an understanding. I don't want to inform your aunt of what I have seen unless you compel me to do so."
"How should I compel you to do so?" stammered Harold, uneasily.
"Step into the parlor, where we can talk comfortably. Your aunt is upstairs, and your mother is out, so that no one will hear us."
Harold felt that he was in the power of the cunning Felicie, and he followed her unresistingly.
"Sit down on the sofa, and we will talk at our ease. I will keep silent about this matter, and no one else knows a word about it, if——"
"Well?"
"If you will give me half the money."
"But," said Harold, who now gave up the pretense of denial, "I have spent part of it."
"You have more than half of it left?"
"Yes."
"Give me thirty dollars and I will be content. I saw you count it. There were sixty-five dollars."
"I don't see what claim you have to it," said Harold, angrily.
"I have as much as you," answered Felicie, coolly. "Still, if you prefer to go to your aunt, own up that you took it, and take the consequences, I will agree not to interfere. But if I am to keep the secret, I want to be paid for it."
Harold thought it over; he hated to give up so large a part of his plunder, for he had appropriated it in his own mind to certain articles which he wished to purchase.
"I'll give you twenty dollars," he said.
"No, I will take thirty dollars, or go to your aunt and tell her all I know."
There was no help for it. Poor Harold took out three ten-dollar bills, reluctantly enough, and gave them to Felicie.
"All right, Master Harold! You've done wisely. I thought you would see matters in the right light. Think how shocked your mother and Aunt Eliza would be if they had discovered that you were the thief."
"Don't use such language, Felicie!" said Harold, wincing. "There is no need to refer to it again."
"As you say, Master Harold. I won't detain you any longer from your walk," and Felicie, with a smile, rose from the sofa and left the room, Harold following.
"Don't disturb yourself any more," she said, as she opened the door for Harold. "It will never be known. Besides, your aunt can well afford to lose this little sum. She is actually rolling in wealth. She ought to be more liberal to you."
"So she ought, Felicie. If she had, this would not have happened."
"Very true. At the same time, I don't suppose a jury would accept this as an excuse."
"Why do you say such things, Felicie? What has a jury got to do with me?"
"Nothing, I hope. Still, if it were a poor boy that had taken the money, Luke Walton, for instance, he might have been arrested. Excuse me, I see this annoys you. Let me give you one piece of advice, Master Harold."
"What is it?"
"Get rid of that morocco pocketbook as soon as you can. If it were found on you, or you should be careless, and leave it anywhere, you would give yourself away, my friend."
"You are right, Felicie," said Harold, hurriedly. "Good-morning!"
"Good-morning, and a pleasant walk, my friend," said Felicie, mockingly.
When Harold was fairly out in the street, he groaned in spirit. He had lost half the fruits of his theft, and his secret had become known. Felicie had proved too much for him, and he felt that he hated her.
"I wish I could get mother to discharge her, with out her knowing that it was I who had brought it about. I shall not feel safe as long as she is in the house. Why didn't I have the sense to shut and lock the door? Then she wouldn't have seen me."
Then the thought of the morocco pocketbook occurred to him. He felt that Felicie was right—that it was imprudent to carry it around. He must get rid of it in some way.
He took the money out and put it in another pocket. The pocketbook he replaced till he should have an opportunity of disposing of it.
Hardly had he made these preparations when he met Luke Walton, who had started unusually early, and was walking towards the house. An idea came to Harold.
"Good-morning, Luke!" he said, in an unusually friendly tone.
"Good-morning, Harold!" answered Luke, agreeably surprised by the other's cordiality.
"Are you going out with Aunt Eliza this morning?"
"I am not sure whether she will want to go out. I shall call and inquire."
"You seem to be quite a favorite of hers."
"I hope I am. She always treats me kindly."
"I really believe she thinks more of you than she does of me."
"You mustn't think that," said Luke, modestly. "You are a relation, and I am only in her employ."
"Oh, it doesn't trouble me. I am bound for the city. I think I shall take the next car, good-day!"
"Good-day, Harold!"
Luke walked on, quite unconscious that Harold, as he passed by his side, had managed to slip the morocco wallet into the pocket of his sack coat.
Luke wore a sack coat with side pockets. It was this circumstance that had made it easy for Harold to transfer the wallet unsuspected to his pocket.
Quite ignorant of what had taken place, Luke kept on his way to Mrs. Merton's house. He rang the bell, and on being admitted, went up, as usual, to the room of his patroness.
"Good morning, Luke," said Mrs. Merton, pleasantly.
"Good-morning," responded Luke.
"I don't think I shall go out this morning, and I don't think of any commission, so you will have a vacation."
"I am afraid I am not earning my money, Mrs. Merton. You make it very easy for me."
"At any rate, Luke, the money is cheerfully given, and I have no doubt you find it useful. How are you getting along?"
"Very well, indeed! I have just made the last payment on mother's machine, and now we owe nothing, except, perhaps, for the rent, and only a week has gone by on the new month."
"You seem to be a good manager, Luke. You succeed in keeping your money, while I have not always found it easy. Yesterday, for instance, I lost sixty-five dollars."
"How was that?" inquired Luke, with interest.
"The drawer in which I keep a pocketbook was unlocked, and this, with its contents, was stolen."
"Don't you suspect anyone?"
"I did, but he has cleared himself, in my opinion. It is possible it was one of the servants."
At this moment Luke pulled his handkerchief from his side pocket and with it came the morocco pocketbook, which fell on the carpet.
Mrs. Merton uttered an exclamation of surprise.
"Why, that is the very pocketbook!" she said.
Luke stooped and picked it up, with an expression of bewilderment on his face.
"I don't understand it," he said. "I never saw that pocketbook before in my life."
"Please hand it to me."
Luke did so.
"Yes, that is the identical pocketbook," said the old lady.
"And it came from my pocket?"
Yes."
"Is there any money in it, Mrs. Merton."
Mrs. Merton opened it, and shook her head. That has been taken out," she answered.
"I hope you won't think I took the money," said Luke, with a troubled look.
"I know you did not. It was taken while we were out together yesterday. The last thing before I left the house I locked the drawer, and the pocketbook with the money inside was there. When I returned it was gone."
"That is very mysterious. I don't understand how the pocketbook came in my pocket."
"Someone must have put it there who wished you to be suspected of the theft."
"Yes," said Luke, eagerly. "I see."
Then he stopped suddenly, for what he was about to say would throw suspicion upon Harold.
"Well, go on!"
"I don't know that I ought to speak. It might throw suspicion on an innocent person."
"Speak! It is due to me. I will judge on that point. Who has had the chance of putting the wallet into your pocket?"
"I will speak if you insist upon it, Mrs. Merton," said Luke, reluctantly. "A few minutes since I met Harold on the street. We were bound in opposite directions. He surprised me by stopping me, and addressing me quite cordially. We stood talking together two or three minutes."
"Did he have an opportunity of putting the wallet in your pocket?"
"He might have done so, but I was not conscious of it."
"Let me think!" said the old lady, slowly. "Harold knew where I kept my money, for I opened the drawer in his presence the other day, and he saw me take a bill from the pocketbook. I did not think him capable of robbing me."
"Perhaps he did not," said Luke. "It may be explained in some other way."
"Can you think of any other way?" asked the old lady.
"Suppose a servant had taken the money, and left the pocketbook somewhere where Harold found it——"
"Even in that case, why should he put it in your pocket?"
"He does not like me. He might wish to throw suspicion upon me."
"That would be very mean."
"I think it would, but still he might not be a thief."
"I would sooner excuse a thief. It is certainly disreputable to steal, but it is not necessarily mean or contemptible. Trying to throw suspicion on an innocent person would be both."
Luke remained silent, for nothing occurred to him to say. He did not wish to add to Mrs. Merton's resentment against Harold.
After a moment's thought the old lady continued: "Leave the pocketbook with me, and say nothing about what has happened till I give you leave."
"Very well."
Mrs. Merton took the pocketbook, replaced it in the drawer, and carefully locked it.
"Someone must have a key that will open this drawer," she said. "I should like to know who it is."
"Do you think anyone will open it again?" asked Luke.
"No; it will be supposed that I will no longer keep money there. I think, however, I will sooner or later find out who opened it."
"I hope it won't prove to be Harold."
"I hope so, too. I would not like to think so near a relative a thief. Well, Luke, I won't detain you here any longer. You may come to-morrow, as usual."
"It is lucky Mrs. Merton has confidence in me," thought Luke. "Otherwise she might have supposed me to be the thief. What a mean fellow Harold Tracy is, to try to have an innocent boy suspected of such a crime."
As he was going out of the front door, Mrs. Tracy entered.
She cast a withering glance at Luke.
"Have you seen my aunt this morning?" she asked.
"Yes, madam."
"I wonder you had the face to stand in her presence."
It must be said, in justification of Mrs. Tracy, that she really believed that Luke had stolen Mrs. Merton's money.
"I know of no reason why I should not," said Luke, calmly. "Will you be kind enough to explain what you mean?"
"You know well enough," retorted Mrs. Tracy, nodding her head venomously.
"Mrs. Merton appears to be well satisfied with me," said Luke, quietly. "When she is not, she will tell me so, and I shall never come again."
"You are the most brazen boy I know of. Why it is that my aunt is so infatuated with you, I can't for my part, pretend to understand."
"If you will allow me, I will bid you good-morning," said Luke, with quiet dignity.
Mrs. Tracy did not reply, and Luke left the house.
"If I ever hated and despised a boy, it is that one!" said Mrs. Tracy to herself as she went upstairs to remove her street dress. "I wish I could strip the mask from him, and get aunt to see him in his real character. He is a sly, artful young adventurer. Ah, Felicie, come and assist me. By the way, I want you to watch that boy who has just gone out?"
"Luke Walton?"
"Yes; of course you have heard of my aunt's loss. I suspect that this Luke Walton is the thief."
"Is it possible, madam? Have you any evidence?"
"No; but we may find some. What do you think?"
"I haven't thought much about the matter. It seems to me very mysterious."
When Felicie left the presence of her mistress she smiled curiously.
"What would Madam Tracy say if she knew it was her own son?" she soliloquized. "He is a young cur, but she thinks him an angel."
Harold had been compelled to give up half his money, but he still had thirty dollars left. How should he invest it? That was the problem that occupied his thoughts. Thus far he had not derived so much satisfaction from the possession of the money as he had anticipated. One thing, at any rate, he resolved. He would not spend it upon others, but wholly upon himself.
He stepped into a billiard saloon to enjoy his favorite pastime. In the absence of any companion he played a game with a man employed in the establishment, and, naturally, got beaten, though he was given odds. At the end of an hour he owed sixty cents, and decided not to continue.
"You play too well for me," he said, in a tone of disappointment.
"You had bad luck," answered his opponent, soothingly. "However, I can more than make it up to you."
"How?" inquired Harold, becoming interested.
"A friend of mine has pawned his watch for fifteen dollars. It is a valuable gold watch—cost seventy-five. He could have got more on it, but expected to redeem it. He has been in bad luck, and finds it no use. He has put the ticket in my hands, and is willing to sell it for ten dollars. That will only make the watch cost twenty-five. It's a big bargain for somebody."
Harold was much interested. He had always wanted a gold watch, and had dropped more than one hint to that effect within the hearing of Aunt Eliza, but the old lady had always said: "When you are eighteen, it will be time enough to think of a gold watch. Till then, your silver watch will do."
Harold took a different view of the matter, and his desire for a gold watch had greatly increased since a school friend about his own age had one. For this reason he was considerably excited by the chance that seems to present itself.
"You are sure the watch is a valuable one?" he asked.
"Yes; I have seen it myself."
"Then why don't you buy the ticket yourself?"
"I haven't the money. If I had, I wouldn't let anybody else have it."
"Let me see the ticket."
The other produced it from his vest pocket, but, of course, this threw no light upon the quality of the watch.
"I can secure the watch, and have nearly five dollars left," thought Harold. "It is surely worth double the price it will cost me, and then I shall have something to show for my money."
On the other hand, his possession of the watch would excite surprise at home, and he would be called upon to explain how he obtained it. This, however, did not trouble Harold.
"I've a great mind to take it," he said, slowly.
"You can't do any better. To tell the truth, I hate to let it go, but I don't see any prospect of my being able to get it out myself, and my friend needs the money."
Harold hesitated a moment, then yielded to the inducement offered.
"Give me the ticket," he said. "Here is the money."
As he spoke, he produced a ten-dollar bill. In return, the ticket was handed to him.
The pawnbroker, whose name was found on the ticket, was located less than fifteen minutes walk from the billiard saloon. Harold, eager to secure the watch, went directly there.
"Well, young man, what can I do for you?" asked a small man, with wrinkled face and blinking eyes.
"I want to redeem my watch. Here is the ticket."
The old man glanced at the ticket, then went to a safe, and took out the watch. Here were kept the articles of small bulk and large value.
Harold took out fifteen dollars which he had put in his vest pocket for the purpose, and tendered them to the pawnbroker.
"I want a dollar and a half more," said the old man.
"What for?" asked Harold, in surprise.
"One month's interest. You don't think I do business for nothing, do you?"
"Isn't that high?" asked Harold, and not without reason.
"It's our regular charge, young man. Ten per cent a month—that's what we all charge."
This statement was correct. Though the New York pawnbroker is allowed to charge but three per cent a month, his Chicago associate charges more than three times as much.
There was nothing for it but to comply with the terms demanded, and Harold reluctantly handed out the extra sum.
"You ought to have a watch chain, my friend," said the pawnbroker.
"I should like one, but I cannot afford it."
"I can give you a superior article—rolled gold—for a dollar."
"Let me see it!"
The chain was displayed. It looked very well; and certainly set off the watch to better advantage.
Harold paid down the dollar, and went out of the pawn broker's with a gold watch, and chain of the same color, with only two dollars left of his ill-gotten money. This was somewhat inconvenient, but he rejoiced in the possession of the watch and chain.
"Now Ralph Kennedy can't crow over me," he soliloquized. "I've got a gold watch as well as he."
As he left the pawnbroker's, he did not observe a familiar face and figure on the opposite side of the street. It was Warner Powell, his mother's brother, who recognized, with no little surprise, his nephew, coming from such a place.
"What on earth has carried Harold to a pawn broker's?" he asked himself.
Then he caught sight of the watch chain, and got a view of the watch, as Harold drew it out ostentatiously to view his new acquisition.
"There is some mystery here," he said to himself. "I must investigate."
He waited till Harold was at a safe distance, then crossed the street, and entered the pawnbroker's.
"There was a boy just went out of here," he said to the old man.
"Suppose there was," returned the pawnbroker, suspiciously.
"What was he doing here?"
"Is that any of your business?"
"My friend, I have nothing to do with you, and no complaint to make against you, but the boy is my nephew, and I want to know whether he got a watch and chain here."
"Yes; he presented a ticket, and I gave him the watch."
"Is it one he pawned himself?"
"I don't know. He had the ticket. I can't remember everybody that deals with me."
"Can you tell me how much the watch and chain were pawned for?"
"The watch was pawned for fifteen dollars. I sold him the chain for a dollar."
"All right. Thank you."
"It's all right?"
"Yes, so far as you are concerned. How long had the watch been in?"
"For three weeks."
Warner Powell left the shop, after obtaining all the information he required.
"It is Harold who robbed Aunt Eliza," he said to himself. "I begin to think my precious nephew is a rogue."
Meanwhile, Harold, eager to ascertain the value of his watch, stepped into a jeweler's.
"Can you tell me the value of this watch?" he inquired.
The jeweler opened it, and after a brief examination, said: "When new it probably cost thirty-five dollars."
Harold's countenance fell.
"I was told that it was a seventy-five dollar watch," he said.
"Then you were cheated."
"But how can such a large watch be afforded for thirty-five dollars?"
"It is low-grade gold, not over ten carats, and the works are cheap. Yet, it'll keep fair time."
Harold was very much disappointed.
When he came to think it over, Harold gradually recovered his complacence. It was a gold watch, after all, and no one would know that the gold was low grade. He met one or two acquaintances, who immediately took notice of the chain and asked to see the watch. They complimented him on it, and this gave him satisfaction.
When he reached home, he went directly upstairs to his room, and only came down when he heard the supper bell.
As he entered the dining room his mother was the first to notice the watch chain.
"Have you been buying a watch chain, Harold?" she asked.
"I have something besides," said Harold, and he produced the watch.
Mrs. Tracy uttered an exclamation of surprise, and Mrs. Merton and Warner exchanged significant glances.
"How came you by the watch and chain?" asked Mrs. Tracy, uneasily.
"They were given to me," answered Harold.
"But that is very strange. Aunt Eliza, you have not given Harold a watch, have you?"
"No, Louisa. I think a silver watch is good enough for a boy of his age."
"Why don't you ask me, Louisa?" said Warner, smiling.
"I don't imagine your circumstances will admit of such a gift."
"You are right. I wish they did. Harold, we are all anxious to know the name of the benevolent individual who has made you such a handsome present. If you think he has any more to spare, I should be glad if you would introduce me."
"I will explain," said Harold, glibly. "I was walking along Dearborn Street about two o'clock, when I saw a gentleman a little in advance of me. He had come from the Commercial Bank, I judge, for it was not far from there I came across him. By some carelessness he twitched a wallet stuffed with notes from his pocket. A rough-looking fellow sprang to get it, but I was too quick for him. I picked it up, and hurrying forward, handed it to the gentleman. He seemed surprised and pleased.
"'My boy,' he said, 'you have done me a great service. That wallet contained fifteen hundred dollars. I should have lost it but for you. Accept this watch and chain as a mark of my deep gratitude.'
"With that, he took the watch from his pocket, and handed it to me. I was not sure whether I ought to take it, but I have long wanted a gold watch, and he seemed well able to afford the gift, so I took it."
Mrs. Tracy never thought of doubting this plausible story.
"Harold," she said, "I am proud of you. I think there was no objection to accepting the watch. What do you say, Aunt Eliza?"
"Let me look at the watch, Harold," said the old lady, not replying to her niece's question.
Harold passed it over complacently. He rather plumed himself on the ingenious story he had invented.
"What do you think of it, Warner?" asked Mrs. Merton, passing it to her nephew.
"It is rather a cheap watch for a rich man to carry," answered Warner, taking it in his hand and opening it.
"I am sure it is quite a handsome watch," said Mrs. Tracy.
"Yes, it is large and showy, but it is low-grade gold."
"Of course, I don't know anything about that," said Harold. "At any rate, it is gold and good enough for me."
"No doubt of that," said the old lady, dryly.
"Rich men don't always carry expensive watches," said Mrs. Tracy. "They are often plain in their tastes."
"This watch is rather showy," said Warner. "It can't be called plain."
"At any rate, Harold has reason to be satisfied. I am glad he obtained the watch in so creditable a manner. If it had been your protege, Aunt Eliza, I suspect he would have kept the money,"
"I don't think so, Louisa," said Mrs. Merton, quietly. "I have perfect confidence in Luke's honesty."
"In spite of your lost pocketbook?"
"Yes; there is nothing to connect Luke with that."
Harold thought he ought to get the advantage of the trick played upon Luke in the morning.
"I don't know as I ought to say anything," he said, hesitating, "but I met Luke this morning, and if I am not very much mistaken, I saw in his pocket a wallet that looked very much like aunt's. You know he wears a sack coat, and has a pocket on each side."
Again Mrs. Merton and Warner exchanged glances.
"This is important!" said Mrs. Tracy, in excitement. "Did you speak to him on the subject?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I thought he might be innocent, and I didn't want to bring a false charge against him."
"You are very considerate," said Mrs. Merton.
"That seems quite conclusive, Aunt Eliza," said Mrs. Tracy, triumphantly. "I am sure Warner will agree with me."
"As to that, Louisa," said her brother, "Harold is not certain it was aunt's lost pocketbook."
"But he thinks it was——"
"Yes, I think it was"
"For my own part, I have no doubt on the subject," said Mrs. Tracy, in a positive tone. "He is the person most likely to take the money, and this makes less proof needful."
"But, suppose, after all, he is innocent," suggested Warner.
"You seem to take the boy's side, Warner. I am surprised at you."
"I want him to have a fair chance, that is all. I must say that I have been favorably impressed by what I have seen of the boy."
"At any rate, I think Aunt Eliza ought to question him sternly, not accepting any evasion or equivocation. He has been guilty of base ingratitude."
"Supposing him to be guilty?"
"Yes, of course."
"I intend to investigate the matter," said the old lady. "What do you think, Harold? Do you think it probable that Luke opened my drawer, and took out the pocket-book?"
"It looks very much like it," said Harold.
"Certainly it does," said Mrs. Tracy, with emphasis.
"Suppose we drop the conversation for the time being," suggested the old lady. "Harold has not wholly gratified our curiosity as to the watch and chain. Do you know, Harold, who the gentleman is to whom you rendered such an important service?"
"No, Aunt Eliza, I did not learn his name."
"What was his appearance? Describe him."
"He was a tall man," answered Harold, in a tone of hesitation.
"Was he an old or a young man?"
"He was an old man with gray hair. He walked very erect."
"Should you know him again, if you saw him?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Then, perhaps, we may have an opportunity of ascertaining who he was. My broker will probably know him from your description."
"Why do you want to find out who he is?" asked Harold, uneasily. "Don't you think I ought to keep the watch?"
"I have a feeling of curiosity on the subject. As to keeping it, I don't think the gentleman will be likely to reclaim it."
"Of course not. Why should he?" said Mrs. Tracy. "He gave it freely, and it would be very strange if he wished it back."
Here the conversation dropped, much to Harold's relief. Warner accompanied his aunt from the room.
"What do you think of Harold's story, Warner?" asked the old lady.
"It is very ingenious."
"But not true?"
"No; he got the watch and chain from a pawnbroker. I saw him come out of the shop, and going in, questioned the pawnbroker. He must have got the ticket somewhere."
"Then it seems that Harold is not only a thief, but a liar."
"My dear aunt, let us not be too hard upon him. This is probably his first offense: I feel like being charitable, for I have been in the same scrape."
"I can overlook theft more easily than his attempt to blacken the reputation of Luke," said Mrs. Merton, sternly.