hant in its hideous secret.

II

The opinion of the cynical bystander on the wharf proved to be a correct
one. The coroner's jury brought in the usual verdict of "Found drowned,"
which was followed by the usual newspaper comment upon the insecurity of
the wharves and the inadequate protection of the police.

Randolph Trent read it with conflicting emotions. The possibility he had
conceived of the corpse being that of his benefactor was dismissed when
he had seen its face, although he was sometimes tortured with doubt, and
a wonder if he might not have learned more by attending the inquest. And
there was still the suggestion that the mysterious disappearance might
have been accomplished by violence like this. He was satisfied that if
he had attempted publicly to identify the corpse as his missing friend
he would have laid himself open to suspicion with a story he could
hardly corroborate.

He had once thought of confiding his doubts to Mr. Revelstoke, the bank
president, but he had a dread of that gentleman's curt conclusions
and remembered his injunction to "hang on to his trust." Since his
installation, Mr. Revelstoke had merely acknowledged his presence by
a good-humored nod now and then, although Randolph had an instinctive
feeling that he was perfectly informed as to his progress. It was wiser
for Randolph to confine himself strictly to his duty and keep his own
counsel.

Yet he was young, and it was not strange that in his idle moments his
thoughts sometimes reverted to the pretty girl he had seen on the night
of his arrival, nor that he should wish to parade his better fortune
before her curious eyes. Neither was it strange that in this city, whose
day-long sunshine brought every one into the public streets, he should
presently have that opportunity. It chanced that one afternoon, being
in the residential quarter, he noticed a well-dressed young girl walking
before him in company with a delicate looking boy of seven or eight
years. Something in the carriage of her graceful figure, something in
a certain consciousness and ostentation of coquetry toward her youthful
escort, attracted his attention. Yet it struck him that she was neither
related to the child nor accustomed to children's ways, and that she
somewhat unduly emphasized this to the passers-by, particularly those of
his own sex, who seemed to be greatly attracted by her evident beauty.
Presently she ascended the steps of a handsome dwelling, evide