s and there's nothing to be done but take my
punishment."

She gave him a keen glance. "Are you hiding something, Dick? It's your
duty to tell all that you suspect."

Dick winced. Helen was right; it was his duty, but he was not going to
carry it out. He began to see what this meant, but his resolution did not
falter.

"If I knew I'd been robbed, it would be different, but I don't, and if I
blamed people who were found to be innocent, I'd only make matters worse
for myself."

"I suppose that's true," she agreed coldly. "However, you have made your
choice and it's too late now. Where are you going, Dick?"

"To New York by the first boat from Liverpool."

He waited, watching her and wondering whether she would ask him to stop,
but she said quietly: "Well, I shall, no doubt, hear how you get on."

"It's unlikely," he answered in a hard voice. "I've lost my friends with
my character. The best thing I can do is to leave them alone."

Then he looked at his watch, and she gave him her hand. "For all that, I
wish you good luck, Dick."

She let him go, and as he went back to the gate he reflected that Helen
had taken the proper and tactful line by dismissing him as if he were
nothing more than an acquaintance. He could be nothing more now, and to
yield to sentiment would have been painful and foolish; but it hurt him
that she had realized this.

When he wheeled his bicycle away from the gate he saw a boy who helped
his father's gardener running along the road, and waited until he came
up, hot and panting. The boy held out a small envelope.

"It came after you left, Mr. Dick," he gasped.

"Then you have been very quick."

The lad smiled, for Dick was a favorite with his father's servants.

"I thought you'd like to have the note," he answered, and added
awkwardly: "Besides, I didn't see you when you went."

It was the first hint of kindness Dick had received since his disgrace
and he took the lad's hand before he gave him half a crown, though he
knew that he must practise stern economy.

"Thank you and good-by, Jim. You must have taken some trouble to catch
me," he said.

Then he opened the envelope and his look softened.

"I heard of your misfortune and am very sorry, but something tells me
that you are not to blame," the note ran, and was signed "Clare
Kenwardine."

For a moment or two Dick was sensible of keen relief and satisfaction;
and then his mood changed. This was the girl who had robbed and ruined