ond all possibility of doubt, to be absolutely honest. Thousands of
people live and die and go to their graves wrapped in the mantle of
unassailable integrity. It may be they have not defrauded a person out of
a penny, for the simple reason that the temptation has never been strong
enough to make them do so. Had it been a little stronger, they would have
succumbed. Others, after years of straightforward life, have fallen. So it
might be that, though he had given full trust to Tom Gordon, he was not
worthy to receive that trust. This half-belief caused the chill in his
treatment of the young man, so different from that to which he had been
accustomed. Before making up his final judgment, however, Mr. Warmore
resolved that every vestige of doubt should be removed. He sent for Mr.
Fyfe Lathewood, one of the shrewdest detectives in New York City, told him
all the circumstances, and ordered him to find out the whole truth, no
matter what it cost, or where it might strike.

The detective had been at work the better part of a week, without any one
in Bellemore suspecting his identity or business. On the afternoon of the
day in which Tom Gordon checked the runaway pony of Miss Warmore, the
detective dropped into the store, as any stranger might have done, made a
few trifling purchases, and then turned and walked out. As he did so, he
managed to pass close to the proprietor, who was standing at the front,
and whispered:--

"_It isn't Gordon; I'll see you to-night_."

Mr. Warmore was strolling homeward, swinging the heavy cane which he
always carried, when, in passing a small stretch of woods just beyond the
outskirts of the town, a man stepped from among the trees with the stealth
of a shadow and waited for him to approach. The merchant hesitated a
moment in doubt of his identity, but the other spoke in a low voice,--

"It's all right; come on."

"I wasn't quite sure," remarked Mr. Warmore, turning aside among the
trees, where he could talk with the detective without the possibility of
being seen or overheard.

"Well," said the merchant in a guarded voice, "what is it?"

"It was a dirty piece of business to throw suspicion on that young Gordon.
He is as innocent as you or I."

"What did you learn about him?"

"You told me of that mortgage which he paid off for the farmer where he
has lived so long."

"Yes; there is no doubt of the truth of that."

"He has been in your employ for four or five years. You tell me he is