Mr. Sprague and Oscar looked at each other in complete stupefaction.

"What does it mean? Where can the boy have gone?" ejaculated Nahum.

"I'll be blest if I know," returned Oscar.

"The door was locked. He must have gone through the window. There wasn't any rope in the room, was there?"

"No."

"And if he jumped out he would certainly have broken his neck, or his limbs."

"He wouldn't have dared to jump. He's no braver than a mouse."

"It's the most mysterious thing I ever heard of," said Mr. Sprague, wrinkling his brows.

"What are you going to do about it, dad?"

"I don't know. I'm flabbergasted."

"I'll tell you what to do when you get him back," suggested Oscar. "Give him a sound thrashing. It will do him good."

"What shall I say about his running away?"

"Say he's a little touched in the upper story."

"I guess he'd better be touched somewhere else," said Oscar with a loud laugh at his own wit.

Considerably to his disgust Oscar was set to work doing some of Philip's chores directly after breakfast, and it was nine o'clock before he got ready to start in quest of Philip. Even then he did not start, for an open buggy stopped at the gate, driven by a man from the village, and containing as passenger, a boy of sixteen. This boy was Mark Mason, as the reader will easily conjecture.

"Who's that, Oscar! Is it one of your friends?" asked Nahum Sprague.

"No; never saw him before in my life."

Mark advanced directly to Mr. Sprague.

"Is this Mr. Nahum Sprague?" he asked.

"Yes; that's my name."

"Does a boy named Philip Lillis live with you?"

"And what if there does?" inquired Mr. Sprague cautiously.

"I am sent from New York to take charge of him."

"You've guessed my age exactly," said Mark with a smile.

"Who sends you?"

"Mr. David Gilbert."

"Is he—rich?" asked Nahum curiously.

"Well, he's pretty well off."

"And he is willing to take care of the boy?"

"Yes. Can I see Philip?"

"Well," answered Nahum Sprague in an embarrassed tone, "you can pretty soon."

"And why not now?"

"The fact is, rather a cur'us thing happened last night. The boy disappeared."

"Is that true?" asked Mark with some suspicion.

"Yes. Fact is, the boy ain't quite right in his head."

"I am sorry for that," said Mark gravely. "How long has he been affected that way?"

"Only lately, I don't think it will last."

"Please tell me the circumstances."

"Why, we locked him in the attic for fear he might get out and come to some harm when he was light-headed, and this morning we couldn't find him."

"Please show me the room."

He led the way up into the attic, and Mark looked into the room. He was struck at once with its bare, unfurnished aspect.

"Did the boy spend the night here?" he asked abruptly.

"Yes."

"Where did he sleep?"

Mr. Sprague saw his mistake too late.

"Why—the fact is," he said hesitating, "the boy acted badly, and I confined him here as a punishment."

"Expecting him to sleep on the floor?"

"Well, yes—as a punishment."

"How old is the boy?"

"Ten years old."

"Then all I can say is, that you treated him very cruelly."

"That ain't the way to talk to me," blustered Sprague. "I guess I know the way to treat boys. You're only a boy yourself."

"That is true, but what has that got to do with it?"

"You should be more respectful to your elders."

"No, and it's very ungrateful for him to do it now. Why, I have supported him ever since his father's death, and I paid the expenses of his father's funeral."

"I shall probably repay you for that—when you find, and deliver to me the boy."

This was welcome intelligence to Mr. Sprague, who straightway became very polite to Mark.

"Thank you, my dear young friend. I wouldn't accept it if I was not a poor man. I am very much attached to the boy, and I wouldn't let him go if I could afford to keep him. Oscar, go to the village at once and see if you can see anything of Philip."

"I will go with him, Mr. Sprague."

"Very well; but be sure to come back before you take him away."

"I certainly shall. It would not be fair to you to do otherwise. You may get ready the items of expense while I am gone."

"Thank you, I will."

"How provoking that Philip should go away just at this time!" thought Nahum. "It seems so mysterious, too. I do hope nothing has happened to the boy, or this fellow, who seems very sharp, may not be willing to pay me my bill."

Meanwhile Oscar and Mark went to the village.

"Yes."

"Are you Mr. Gilbert's son?"

"No; I am only his messenger."

"And you actually came all the way from New York alone?"

"Yes."

"Did he give you plenty of money for traveling?"

"Well, a pretty good sum," answered Mark, smiling. "What do you think has become of Philip?"

"Blest if I know. I don't see how he could get out of the window."

"I hope he hasn't come to any harm."

"Oh, I guess not," said Oscar indifferently.

"Do you like the boy?" asked Mark keenly.

"Well, I don't care much about kids," answered Oscar.

"Have you any idea where Philip would be likely to go? Has he ever left home before?"

"No; and he wouldn't now if he wasn't crazy."

At this moment they met Albert Frost.

"Do you know that boy?" asked Mark. "Perhaps he has seen Philip."

"I say, Albert," said Oscar, "have you seen anything of Philip Lillis?"

"Why do you ask? Don't he live at your house?"

"Yes, but he's taken French leave."

"I have come from New York to take Philip with me," he said significantly. "A friend of his father is going to adopt him."

"Is this sure?" asked Albert.

"Yes; I am very anxious to find the boy."

"Come here," said Albert. "Perhaps I can put you on his track. No, not you!" This last was addressed to Oscar.

"Now," went on Albert, "can I depend on your being a friend of Philip?"

"Yes, you can. The boy will be in good hands when he reaches New York."

"He isn't now," said Albert. "I helped him escape from old Sprague's last night. I can get him for you."

"Do so then."

"You are sure Sprague won't beat him?"

"Yes; I am to pay him some money, and I won't do it if any harm comes to the boy."

"Go back with Oscar," said Albert aloud, "and I will have Philip at the house inside of half an hour."

"Where is he?" asked Oscar curiously.

"I don't know—exactly, but I can find him."

"Is he at your house?"

Nahum Sprague was much pleased when the two boys brought home this intelligence. He had prepared a bill for expenses amounting to a hundred dollars, on which his profit would be considerable. Money with him was all powerful, and though he would have been glad to give Philip a good thrashing, he cared still more for money.

When Philip made his appearance, accompanied by Albert and Arthur Burks, Mr. Sprague greeted him with a genial smile.

"I am almost tempted to call you a bad boy," he said. "You have made me feel quite anxious. This young gentleman has come here to take you to New York. We shall miss you sadly, Mrs. Sprague and I, but if it is for your good we won't complain."

"Are you willing to go with me, Philip?" asked Mark.

Philip looked up in Mark's face, and did not hesitate a moment.

"Yes," he said, placing his hand in Mark's; "I am ready to go now."

"I don't know whether your clothes are ready," said Mr. Sprague. "They may need washing."

Poor Philip's appearance was such that Mark felt that he would at once have to buy him a new outfit.

When they were preparing to start Mr. Sprague ostentatiously wiped his eyes on a large bandana handkerchief.

"Pardon my emotion, Mr. Mason," he said, addressing Mark, "but Philip is very near and dear to me, and so was his father. I cannot part from him without a pang. Yet if he is to be better off I will not murmur. Philip, my dear child, don't forget your uncle Nahum."

"I shall remember you, Mr. Sprague," said Philip. This at least he could say with truth.

"Thank you, thank you! I thought you would."

"I say, kid," put in Oscar, "my birthday comes the 17th of October. If you're rich and prosperous, you might send me a birthday gift."

Philip smiled. All this unwonted attention amused him.

"I won't forget you, Oscar," he said.

The buggy drove up, and Mark helped Philip inside.

"If you want to cry, don't mind me," he said to Philip with a smile.

At San Francisco Mark stopped over a day to buy some clothing for Philip.

"Did Mr. Sprague select your clothes, Philip?" asked Mark. "If so, I can't compliment him on his taste."

"They are some old clothes of Oscar's," answered Philip. "They are the best I could get."

"We'll see if San Francisco can't furnish you with something better."

At a clothing store on Market Street, Mark bought a complete outfit for Philip. The latter was much pleased when he saw his transformation in a pier glass in the store.

"Now I shall have nothing to remind me of Mr. Sprague," he said. "Do you want me to take the old clothes with me?"

"No; we will leave them here."

"It does me good to see you again, young pard," he said. "And is this the kid?"

"Yes."

"Well, upon my word he looks like a little gentleman."

"He has improved in appearance since I made his acquaintance in Gulchville," said Mark with a smile. "I have just bought him a new outfit."

"So, so! Well, fine feathers make fine birds. Well, my boy, does Mark make you call him father?"

Philip laughed heartily at the idea.

"Why, he's only a boy!" he rejoined.

"Philip," said Mark with a warning finger, "you must treat me with proper respect."

"Shall I call you father?"

"No; perhaps it will be more suitable to call me brother Mark. Did you stop over in Nevada, Mr. Dempsey?"

"Yes; I went to the mine."

"What did you learn?"

"That a New York syndicate is trying to purchase the mine, and this has carried up the price of stock to two hundred and fifty dollars."

Mark's eyes sparkled.

"Why that would make mother's share worth fifty thousand dollars," he said.

"I certainly will follow your advice, Mr. Dempsey. Shall you hold on to your shares?"

"No. I think I will sell out. I have an offer from a man in Virginia City which I think I shall accept. The stock may go higher, but again it may go lower. My shares will bring twenty-five thousand dollars, and that will make a man like me rich."

"I wish I had control of mother's stock now," said Mark. "I could realize a price which would make her comfortable for life."

The sudden rise in the value of the Golden Hope shares was already known in New York. Mr. Talbot on receiving the intelligence called on his brokers, Crane & Lawton.

"Would you advise me to sell now, Mr. Crane?" he asked.

"Wait a week, Mr. Talbot, and you may realize a few more points. Then you had better unload."

"I will be guided by your advice. I am sure it is for the best."

"I wonder whether Mark has got back," he said to himself. "If not, probably Ellen is very short of money. I will offer, if necessary, five hundred dollars for her signature. I don't think she can resist that."

Mrs. Mason had just finished washing her breakfast dishes when there was a knock at the door. Opening it, she saw the familiar face of Tom Trotter, dressed in the uniform of a Western Uniform telegraph boy.

"What, Tom!" she exclaimed in surprise. "Have you changed your business?"

"Yes, Mrs. Mason," answered Tom complacently. "I've give up blackin' boots, and now I'm a messenger boy like Mark."

"You look very nice in your uniform, Tom. There's another improvement I see."

"What is that, Mrs. Mason?"

"Your hands and face are both clean."

"I've got to keep clean now," said Tom soberly. "It seems kind of strange, but I guess I'll get used do it. When I look in the glass I don't hardly know myself."

"Don't you like it better?"

"It must be from Mark," said Mrs. Mason in excitement, and she tore open the dispatch and read as follows:

Omaha, Sept. 17.

Shall be home on Friday.               Mark.

"Mark will be home on Friday, Tom!" said the happy mother. "How glad I shall be!"

"Hurray!" exclaimed Tom. "That's good news."

"Come round and take dinner with us Sunday, Tom. We'll have a little feast in honor of Mark's return."

"I'll see, Mrs. Mason. I was engaged to take dinner with Jay Gould, but I'll telegraph him I can't come."

"I am afraid we can't give you as good a dinner as Jay Gould."

"You'll have Mark here and that's better than the best dinner Jay can give me. Shall I wear my swallow tail?"

"No; your uniform will do."

"I hope you are well, Ellen," he said extending his hand.

"Thank you, I am quite well," replied Mrs. Mason.

"And Edith too?"

Mr. Talbot seldom took any notice of Edith, but he had an object to gain now.

"Yes, Edith is well. She has just gone to school."

"I think I heard that Mark was absent from the city."

"Yes, he is away."

"He has been gone some time?"

"Yes."

"I should think you would miss him."

"So I do. I miss him constantly."

"You must find it hard to get along without him—financially I mean."

"He left some money behind. I am not in want."

"Ellen, I am really sorry to see you living in such a poor way. These humble rooms are not suitable for you."

Mrs. Mason was rather astonished to hear these words from her brother-in-law. She did not understand that he was preparing the way for another offer.

"You had better not count too much upon that. An office boy's wages seldom amount to much. How much does he earn?"

"He averaged about five dollars a week as a telegraph messenger."

"So I supposed. He may get a dollar or two more in a year or two—but what is that?"

"It isn't much," Mrs. Mason admitted.

"I was talking the matter over with Mary the other day, and it is largely on her account that I came here this morning to make a proposal to you."

"Now it's coming!" thought Mrs. Mason. "Well?" she said.

"And I have made up my mind to offer you five hundred dollars."

"That is very kind," said Mrs. Mason demurely.

"On condition that you sign this paper releasing me from all responsibility as executor of your father's estate."

"This seems important to you, Solon," said Mrs. Mason keenly.

"It is a matter of form. I shall present it at the probate court. But it gives me an excuse for offering you a generous gift."

"Think it over? What thinking over do you need? I am not sure that I can give you time for that, as the gift is entirely voluntary on my part. I have brought the money with me, and in five minutes you can be a comparatively rich woman."

"I have just had a telegram from Mark saying that he will be home on Friday. I will wait till he comes. If you will come round Saturday——"

"I can't promise," said Talbot, deeply disappointed. "You stand very much in your own light."

"I can make no other answer, Solon."

While Solon Talbot was intent upon making money, his son Edgar was left to spend his time pretty much as he pleased. His father had secured him a place with a firm of brokers in Wall Street, in fact in the office of Crane & Lawton, through whom he intended to dispose of his mining stocks.

Edgar received five dollars a week, and this his father allowed him to keep for himself. But five dollars a week in a city like New York won't go very far when a boy gives up his evenings to playing pool.

One night Edgar made the acquaintance of a showy young man whom he ignorantly supposed belonged to a prominent New York family. It was in fact our old acquaintance, Hamilton Schuyler, with whom Mark had already had some experiences which did not impress him very much in the young man's favor.

"You play a good game of billiards, Mr. Talbot," he said.

"Oh, fair," answered Edgar complacently.

"Do you mind having a game with me?"

"You probably play a good deal better than I do."

"We can try and see. By the way, let me introduce myself," and he handed Edgar his card.

"Schuyler Hamilton!" read Edgar, "that is an old name, is it not?"

"Yes," answered Schuyler carelessly. "I am related to most of the old Knickerbocker families. I am very particular whom I associate with, but I saw at once that you were a gentleman."

Foolish Edgar was very much flattered.

"My father is a capitalist," he said. "We used to live in Syracuse, but he thinks he can make more money in New York."

"Just so. There are plenty of chances of making money here. I made five thousand dollars in Wall Street last week myself."

"You did!" exclaimed Edgar dazzled.

"Yes."

"I suppose it takes considerable money to speculate in Wall Street?"

"Oh no, not on a margin."

"I should like to make a strike myself. I am in the office of Crane & Lawton."

"Are you indeed? I never did any business with them, but I understand that they stand very high."

"I think they are rich."

The game was played, and resulted in the success of Edgar.

"Really, you play a strong game. Suppose—just for the excitement of it—we stake a dollar on the next game. What do you say?"

"All right!"

Edgar had received his week's pay in the afternoon, and was well provided. He flattered himself he could play better than Schuyler, and thought it would be very agreeable to win money in that way. Schuyler managed to let him win.

"Really," he said with pretended annoyance, "I am afraid you are more than a match for me."

"Perhaps I was lucky," said Edgar, elated.

"At any rate I will try again. Let us call it two dollars."

"Very well," assented Edgar.

It was an accident, however, and he kept on. At the close of the evening he was without a cent.

"I have been unlucky," he said, trying to hide his mortification. "I have lost all the money I had with me."

"That is too bad. Here, give me a memorandum for two dollars, and I will hand you back that amount. Some time when you are in funds you can pay me."

"Thank you!" said Edgar in a tone of relief.

"You are really a better player than I am," went on Schuyler, "but the balls happened to run in my favor. Another evening I shall be the loser."

This was the first of Edgar's acquaintance with Schuyler Hamilton, but it was by no means the last. They got into the way of meeting nearly every night and Edgar ran more and more into Schuyler's debt. However, Hamilton was very easy with him. He accepted memorandums of indebtedness, which somehow seemed a very easy way of paying debts. Edgar did not reflect that a day of reckoning must come at last.

"Do you know how much you are owing me, Edgar?" he said one evening.

"No," answered Edgar uneasily.

"Seventy-five dollars!"

"It can't be!" exclaimed Edgar, incredulous.

"These things increase faster than you think for," said Schuyler carelessly.

"I suppose you'll let it run," remarked Edgar with a troubled look.

"I should be glad to do so, my dear boy, but I need the money. I was hit rather hard at the races yesterday, and the long and short of it is, that you will have to pay me."

"I can't pay you," said Edgar doggedly.

Schuyler frowned.

"What do you mean by that?" he demanded sternly.

"I mean exactly what I say. I haven't got any money. I only get five dollars a week, and I can't spare any of that."

"You've got to get the money. You had no business to bet if you couldn't pay."

"I never did bet till I got acquainted with you."

"No, don't do that! He wouldn't let me keep my wages."

"That is your affair, not mine. Can't you tell him you want to pay a tailor's bill, and get the money that way?"

"No; I get my clothes charged at his tailor's."

"Oh, well, I don't care how you get it as long as you do get it. Doesn't your father leave any money lying about in his desk or in his bureau drawers?"

"No. Besides, you don't want me to steal, do you?"

"Not if you can get the money any other way."

"Look here, Mr. Schuyler, I thought you were rich. How do you happen to be in want of seventy-five dollars?"

"Anybody might be short of money. One day when I was traveling in the Adirondacks, I met a rich man—a millionaire—who was in trouble. 'I say, Schuyler,' he said to me, 'can you loan me a hundred dollars. I give you my word I am almost penniless, and no one knows me here.' Now I happened to have three hundred dollars in my pocketbook, and I at once produced it and lent him the money. You see even a millionaire can get into a money scrape."

"I don't feel at liberty to tell. It would not be honorable. But to come back to our own business! You must make some arrangement to pay me."

"Tell me how," said Edgar sulkily.

"Don't you deposit for your firm in the Park Bank?"

"Yes."

"Always checks?"

"Sometimes there are bank bills."

Schuyler bent over and whispered in Edgar's ear. Edgar flushed and then looked nervous and agitated.

"You ask me to do that," he said.

"Yes, there is no danger. Say you lost the bills in the street."

Edgar was not a conscientious boy or a boy of high principle, but this suggestion shocked him.

"Would you ruin me?" he asked.

"I would have you pay me what you owe me. If you don't there will be a fuss."

"I wish I had never met you, Mr. Schuyler," said poor Edgar bitterly.

"Who says I am not?"

"I don't. I expect you to behave like one. Good night."

This interview took place on Fifth Avenue not far from Delmonico's café. When the two parted another boy, who had been following at a little distance, moved rapidly forward and placed his hand on Edgar's shoulder.

"Cousin Edgar," he said.

Edgar turned.

"Mark!" he said, not with his old hauteur, for trouble had humbled his pride.

"Yes. Who was that you were walking with?" asked Mark.

"No one you know. He is Mr. Schuyler, from one of the best New York families."

Mark smiled.

"I hope you have no business with him," he said.

"I owe him seventy-five dollars, and I don't know how on earth I am going to pay him."

"What do you owe him that for?"

"For bets on games of billiards."

"This Hamilton Schuyler, as he calls himself, is an adventurer, a swindler, and a thief. His family is not as good as yours or mine."

"Yes. Don't trouble yourself about what you owe him. Appoint a meeting for him to-morrow evening at the Fifth Avenue Hotel. I will go there and meet him with you. I'll get you out of your scrape."

On arriving in New York Mark took his young charge at once to the house of Mr. Gilbert.

It was at the close of the day, and Mr. Gilbert had returned from his office. He received Mark with great cordiality.

"True and faithful, as I expected!" he said. "How did you enjoy your trip?"

"Very much, sir. I hope, some day, to visit California again."

"So you are Philip Lillis, my boy," continued Mr. Gilbert kindly. "Do you think you shall like to live in New York?"

"Yes, sir."

"Were you sorry to leave California?"

"No, sir; Mr. Sprague and Oscar did not treat me well. I would rather live with you."

"I should like to very much, but I have not yet seen my mother."

"That is sufficient excuse. Your first duty is to her. Wait a moment. I must express my acknowledgments to you in a substantial manner."

Mr. Gilbert sat down at his desk and wrote a check, which he inclosed in an envelope.

"Open it when you get home," he said.

"I have a balance of about forty dollars belonging to you, Mr. Gilbert, from my expense money."

"Keep it. I am sure it will be more useful to you than to me."

"How kind you are, Mr. Gilbert!"

"I hope to continue so. Take a few days for rest, and then come round to my counting-room and we will talk of your future prospects."

Mrs. Mason gave Mark a glad welcome.

"I am so glad to see you," she said.

"I hope you did not want for money while I was gone."

"No; I still have half the money you gave me from Mr. Gilbert when you went away. Shall I give it back to you?"

"No, mother; keep it for current expenses. Mr. Gilbert gave me a check just now, but I don't know how much it is."

"It is for two hundred dollars!" he exclaimed. "Mother, we are growing rich. With the balance in my hands, which Mr. Gilbert told me to keep, I have two hundred and forty dollars."

"We have much to be thankful for, Mark. Compare our present state with three months since. Shall you go back to the telegraph office?"

"No; Mr. Gilbert will probably give me a place in his counting-room, but I shall wait a few days first. Is there any news?"

"Your uncle has been to see me again. He offered me five hundred dollars if I would sign a release to him as executor."

"You didn't do it?"

"No."

"I am glad. Mother, Uncle Solon is trying to swindle us out of a large sum. I heard about the Golden Hope mine when I was away. The shares are booming, and I shall to-morrow call on my friend the lawyer and request him to communicate with Mr. Talbot."

"I leave the matter in your hands, Mark. Though you are so young, you seem to have a judgment beyond your years."

"Indeed! I thought you and Edgar were not friendly."

"He has got into a scrape, and I have promised to help him out."

"Is it anything serious?"

"He owes an adventurer seventy-five dollars, and the latter is trying to frighten him into paying it. I know the man to be a swindler, and shall be able to foil him in his plans."

"If you can be of service to Edgar I hope you will. He has not treated you well, but he is your cousin."

The next evening Edgar Talbot walked into the Fifth Avenue Hotel. He felt nervous, for he did not understand how Mark could help him. It seemed strange to him that he should be indebted to his poor and almost despised cousin for help in his time of trouble.

A minute after Mark entered looking cheerful and happy.

"Good evening, Edgar," he said. "Has our friend Schuyler appeared?"

"Not yet."

Mark's confident manner somewhat allayed Edgar's alarm. He was proud and arrogant, but he had little courage.

He sat down on the sofa at the left hand side of the entrance and in about five minutes Hamilton Schuyler swaggered in. He was carefully dressed and had a rose in his buttonhole.

"I am going to the opera this evening with a fashionable party," he said, "and I shall have to hurry up my business with you."

"I am here on time," said Edgar.

"I see. Well, I suppose you have brought the money with you."

"You mean the seventy-five dollars?"

"Of course I do."

"No, Mr. Schuyler, I have not brought the money."

"And why not, I should like to know?" demanded Schuyler with a dark frown.

"Because I have no means of getting it."

"That isn't my lookout. It is yours. That money I must and will have."

"Nonsense! I shall adopt quite a different course."

"What is that?"

"I will lay the matter before your father."

Edgar winced, but he was prepared with a reply.

"I don't think it will do you any good. Father won't pay such a bill as that."

"At any rate it will get you into trouble with him."

"Yes it might," said Edgar nervously.

Schuyler saw his advantage. He must play upon the fears of his young dupe.

"Come, Edgar," he said, "suppose we talk over this matter sensibly. You are indebted to me in the sum of seventy-five dollars."

"I never got any value for it."

"It is the result of several fair and honest bets which you lost. As a boy of honor, you must pay me."

"I have told you that I don't know where to get the money."

"And I suggested a plan."

"You suggested that I should appropriate some of the money I was given by my employer to deposit in the Park Bank."

"Hush!" said Schuyler apprehensively. "Don't blurt out secrets."

"I don't care how you get the money. If you know what is best for yourself, you'll get it somehow and somewhere."

"I thought you were wealthy, Mr. Schuyler. I didn't think you would press me like this."

"I am wealthy, but as I told you I have met with some losses recently, or I would have given you more time on this debt."

"Suppose I can't pay you?"

"Then you will have to take the consequences."

"That means that you will go to my father?"

"Not alone that. I will let it be known everywhere that you have refused to pay a debt of honor and that will exclude you from the society of gentlemen."

Edgar was unprepared to go further, and he thought it time to obtain Mark's assistance.

"Let us go into the reading room," he said. "Perhaps we can settle the matter there."

"All right! I want to be easy with you, and I will agree to take off ten dollars if you will pay me the balance."

"I will see what I can do."

Schuyler was short-sighted, and did not make out Mark till Edgar said: "Mr. Schuyler, let me introduce you to my cousin, Mark Mason!"

"The telegraph boy!" ejaculated Schuyler, his face changing.

"I see you know me, Mr. Schuyler," said Mark. "My cousin tells me you want him to pay you seventy-five dollars."

"I don't know what you have to do with the matter," said Schuyler stiffly.

"Then I will tell you. You have imposed yourself upon Edgar as a respectable man of good social position while I know you to be an adventurer and a swindler."

"Do you mean to insult me?" demanded Schuyler looking around the room nervously.

"I mean to protect my cousin. Give him the memorandums you have, or tear them up and cease to persecute him, or I will call in a policeman."

Hamilton Schuyler looked furious, but he knew Mark and his resolute spirit, and felt afraid he would do as he threatened.

"You cub!" he hissed. "You are always interfering with me."

He turned upon his heel and left the reading room.

"How can I thank you, Mark?" said Edgar gratefully. "You have got me out of a bad scrape. That fellow has drained me of every cent. I had to borrow five dollars of a clerk in the office to satisfy him, and if I pay it I shall have nothing to spend for a week."

"Then let me be your banker, Edgar," said Mark as he drew a five-dollar note from his pocket and offered it to his cousin.

"Can you spare this, Mark?" asked Edgar in surprise and relief.

"Yes."

"I don't know when I can repay you."

"Take your own time. Pay a dollar a week if you like."

"Won't you call round at the house?" asked Edgar.

"Thank you, not this evening. I hope the time will come when we can meet each other often."

Solon Talbot was much elated by the great rise in the stock of the Golden Hope Mine. At two hundred and fifty dollars each, the four hundred shares held by his father-in-law's estate would bring one hundred thousand dollars. While only half of this rightfully belonged to him, he felt that he was safe in appropriating the whole, as he imagined that Mark and his mother had no clew to its real ownership.

He had an offer from Crane & Lawton of a hundred thousand for the stock, and this he could obtain at any time. He had not thus far been able to obtain Mrs. Mason's signature to a release, but this he reflected was only a matter of form and need not be regarded.

He went to the office of a prominent real estate broker and examined his list of houses for sale. One especially pleased him—a house on West Forty-Seventh street in excellent condition, which he could buy for forty-five thousand dollars.

"You can pay twenty thousand dollars down," said the broker, "and the balance can stand on mortgage at five per cent."

"I shall probably pay cash down for the whole," responded Mr. Talbot, with the air of a capitalist.

"Very well Mr. Talbot," said the broker respectfully, "that will of course be satisfactory. So would the other arrangement."

"I will decide in a day or two and let you know," added Talbot.

When he went home he could not help boasting a little of his proposed purchased.

"Mary," he said, "what should you say if I bought a house?"

"In Brooklyn?"

"No I must live here in New York. My business will be here."

"So it does but I propose to go high."

"I suppose you will have to pay as much as twenty thousand dollars for a desirable house."

"Twenty thousand dollars! what are you thinking of?"

"Why, our house in Syracuse was sold for ten thousand dollars, and I thought you might have to pay twice as much here."

"I should say so, Mrs. Talbot. I am in treaty for a house costing forty-five thousand dollars."

Mrs. Talbot was astonished.

"I had no idea you could afford to pay so much for a house, Solon," she said.

"My dear, I am afraid you underrate my business abilities. I haven't said anything to you about my business success, but I have been making money lately. Yes, I feel that I can afford to pay forty-five thousand dollars for a house."

"Where is the house situated?"

"In West Forty-Seventh Street, between Fifth and Sixth Avenues. That's a fine block—a good many fashionable people live there."

"I don't know whether I shall feel at home among them."

"I am not ambitious in that way. I should rather be able to see Ellen often than to receive fashionable people."

"Ahem, Mrs. T. You must remember that Ellen lives in a very poor way, and it would do you harm to have it known that she is your sister."

"You would not have me repudiate my own sister?" said Mrs. Talbot, half indignantly.

"Well, no, not exactly repudiate her, but you can receive her early in the morning when no one is likely to be here. You must remember also that Mark, her son, has been, and perhaps still is, a common telegraph boy, whom we couldn't have coming freely to the house and claiming relationship with Edgar."

"I think Mark is a pretty good fellow," said Edgar unexpectedly.

It was only the previous evening that Mark had got him out of trouble.

"This is a little surprising in you, Edgar," said Solon Talbot, arching his brow. "I thought you looked down upon him."

"I did, but I have changed my opinion of him."

"He is a poor working boy."

"He may be a working boy but he has more money than I. He always seems to have plenty of it."

"Yes, father."

"Has he gone back to the telegraph office?"

"No, he says he shan't go back."

"Has he any position?"

"No he is not working just now."

"He is a foolish boy. He will spend the little money he has, and then, when he wants to go back to the telegraph office, they won't receive him."

"I am glad you are on better terms with Mark, Edgar," said Mrs. Talbot regarding her son with unusual favor.

"Don't be influenced too much by what your mother says, Edgar," said his father, "social distinctions must be observed."

For once Edgar was not influenced by what his father said. He was not wholly bad, and Mark's friendly service in rescuing him from the clutches of Hamilton Schuyler had quite changed his feelings towards his cousin. Then the timely loan of five dollars had also its effect.

This was the day for the meeting of the two sisters at Arnold & Constable's. Mrs. Talbot informed her sister of her husband's plan.

"That is a large sum."

"Yes; I had no idea when we lived in Syracuse that Solon was so rich. He says that I underrated his business abilities."

"Do you know if he has met with any recent business success?"

"No; he never tells me particulars."

Mrs. Mason thought she could guess where the forty-five thousand dollars were coming from, and on her return she told Mark what she had heard.

"He must be going to sell the stock," said Mark.

"Can we stop him?"

"No, as executor he would have the right to do this, but we must arrange to share the proceeds. I will see our lawyer, and ask him what is best to be done."

At this moment there was a knock at the door. Mark opened it, and there stood Tom Trotter in his new uniform. "I've got a message for you, Mark," he said.

"Who is it from?"

"Let me see it."

The message was brief.

"Come round to my office, I want to see you.

"Luther Rockwell."

"How did you happen to bring this message, Tom?"

"I know Mr. Rockwell. I've often blacked his boots. I guess he's seen us together, for when he saw me this morning he asked if I could tell him your address which he had lost."

"I'll go right around there," said Mark.

"Perhaps he's going to take you into partnership, Mark."

"If he does, Tom, I'll find a good place in the office for you."

When Mark entered the banker's office he was at once introduced into Mr. Rockwell's presence.

"You sent for me, sir."

"Yes. I am thinking of purchasing a block of mining stock, and as you have recently been to the Pacific coast I thought you might have heard something about it."

"What's the name of the mine, sir?"

"The Golden Hope Mine."

"Yes, sir," he answered; "I can tell you a good deal about it. From whom do you expect to purchase?"

"From Crane & Lawton. It is a block of four hundred shares, at two hundred and sixty a share."

"Held by Solon Talbot."

"How do you know?"

"But I understood that you were poor," said Mr. Rockwell, surprised at Mark's statement.

"That we are so is because Mr. Talbot as executor has concealed from my mother the existence of the stock as a part of grandfather's estate."

"How long since your grandfather died?"

"Nearly two years."

"And the stock is only now to be sold?"

"Yes; my uncle had advices that it would be well to wait, as it was likely to go up."

"And your mother's share is half—say, two hundred shares?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then she will be comfortable for life. At the price I am thinking of paying, this will amount to over fifty thousand dollars. Now can you give me any information about the mine?"

"I shall rely upon your statements and buy the stock. After it is sold I advise you to take immediate steps to secure your share. Have you consulted a lawyer?"

"Yes; a young man."

"In a matter of this importance an older and more experienced lawyer will be better. I will give you a note to my own lawyer."

"Thank you, sir."

"I am now going to the office of Crane & Lawton where I shall meet your uncle, and conclude the business. Come here in less than two hours and I may be able to tell you the result."

"I will do so."

Solon Talbot was much elated when informed by Crane & Lawton that they had found a purchaser for his mining stock in the person of Luther Rockwell, the well-known banker.

"Do you think he would stand a higher price?" asked Talbot.

"It would not be wise to ask it."

"He is very rich. He could afford to pay more."

"No doubt you are right. I will be guided by your advice."

When Solon Talbot was introduced to Mr. Rockwell he made a deferential bow.

"I am honored in making your acquaintance, Mr. Rockwell," he said.

"Thank you, sir."

The banker would have been more cordial but for what he had heard from Mark.

"How long have you owned this stock, Mr. Talbot?" inquired Mr. Rockwell.

"Three years."

"It is not held in your name."

"No; it belongs to the estate of my late father-in-law, Elisha Doane."

"I take it that you are the executor of the estate."

"Yes, sir."

Solon Talbot would not have been so communicative if he had supposed that the banker was a friend to Mark. He had forgotten Mark's agency in protecting Mr. Rockwell from the dynamite fiend.

"The stock was probably purchased at a very low figure."

"It is fortunate for his heirs."

"Yes," answered Talbot rather nervously.

He was afraid Mr. Rockwell might inquire who were the other heirs. Had he done so, he would have evaded the question or boldly declared that there was no other heirs except himself.

After half an hour's conversation the purchase was made, and a check for one hundred and four thousand dollars was handed to Mr. Talbot.

"I hope you will not have occasion to regret your purchase, Mr. Rockwell," said Solon.

"I think I shall not from advices I have received about increasing richness."

At the time appointed Mark called at Mr. Rockwell's office.

"Well, Mark," said the lawyer, "I made the purchase."

"At two hundred and sixty?"

"Yes. I congratulate you."

"That is, if I succeed in getting our share from my uncle."

Solon Talbot went home in high spirits. It was only recently that he had become aware of the great value of the Golden Hope shares. It had come to him as an agreeable surprise.

"With what I was worth before," he soliloquized, "I may now rate myself at one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. That is very good—for a beginning. I can afford to buy the house in Forty-Seventh Street, for I shall still have a hundred thousand dollars over, and in five years I mean to make it half a million."

He paced up and down his library in a state of joyous excitement. No thought of giving his sister-in-law her rightful due entered his mind.