ed the watchman, broken into the vaults and stolen half a
million dollars in currency without leaving any clew behind them of the
slightest value to the police. The subject interested Rayel intensely,
and at our breakfast that morning we talked of little else.

"When they have found the thieves what will they do with them?" he
asked.

"Send them to prison," I answered, "where thieves are kept apart from
the rest of humanity."

"And yet these thieves were not in prison. They could not have robbed
the bank if they had been in prison."

"True, but there are a good many thieves in the world who are not
suspected. They look like honest men and are highly successful in
concealing their dishonesty."

"I should think," he said thoughtfully, "that one would know a thief by
his face."

"Remember," said I, "that all men are not like you. Most of them are
easily deceived."

"Why, then, Kendric!" he exclaimed joyfully, "I can do some good with
this power of mine."

This conversation may seem commonplace enough, but it stands in close
relation to important events which will shortly claim our attention. The
subject which it introduces was not soon abandoned. We talked about it
on our way to the Paddingtons' that evening, where we were cordially
received by our host, and introduced to a large company of ladies and
gentlemen.

Rayel's wonderful skill with the brush had evidently been the subject
of some discussion among Mr. Paddington's guests. It was referred to
frequently, and somewhat to the embarrassment of my cousin, in the
exchange of greetings that followed our introduction.

Greatly to the relief of my fears Rayel seemed quite at ease. He
acknowledged the compliments paid him with gravity and self-possession,
but with few words. All eyes were raised to his face, as he stood head
and shoulders above a group of ladies and gentlemen who had gathered
about him. Never had his presence seemed so magnetic and impressive
since the first time I saw him in his father's house. Now, as then, a
new inspiration was stirring his blood and charging every nerve with the
wonderful magnetism of perfected manhood.

The last person presented to us was a young lady of unusual beauty,
whom I noticed for some moments standing across the room in earnest
conversation with our host. Presently he made his way toward us with the
lady on his arm.

"My daughter, Mr. Lane, whom I shall ask you to escort to dinner," said
he, addressing Rayel. A