is
rich, and therefore has no excuse for stealing. Worse than all, he tried
to ruin a young man whose shoe-latchet he is not worthy to unloose."

"So you unloose _him_. But let him go. He is certain not to trouble you or
any of your family again."

Two days later Mr. Warmore received a certified check for nine hundred
dollars; and thus the account between him and G. Field Catherwood was
closed. He was never seen in Bellemore again. Ten years later he died,
while travelling abroad with a woman whom he had made his wife. Then, for
the first time, Tom Gordon learned the particulars of the night when Mr.
Warmore assisted the detective.

Let us take one more, and the final, leap forward. Three years have passed
since Tom Gordon checked runaway Jack, and saved the life of pretty Jennie
Warmore. They have been three years of undimmed happiness to both; for
during the last one of those years they two became man and wife.

Oh, it all came about so naturally, that you would not care to know the
particulars. Tom was given a share in the business which he had done so
much to develop; and on the day previous to his wedding his prospective
father-in-law presented him with a half interest, thus insuring him a
handsome income for life.

Tom made one condition, which was carried out in spirit and letter. Mr.
Pitcairn, from whose hospitable roof he took his final departure, was to
have all the groceries, dry-goods, and every sort of supplies from the
store as long as he lived, without paying one penny therefor. And it is a
pleasure to record that this arrangement continued without break until the
old couple were finally laid to rest in the churchyard beside poor Jim
Travers who had passed on long before.

Among the wedding presents to the bride was the locket and chain which she
herself had taken from her neck years previous, when drowning in the North
River, and linked about the button on the coat of her rescuer. She and her
parents were amazed beyond measure as they stood with only her smiling
husband present, examining the treasure.

"It is the same," said the wondering mother, opening the locket, and
looking at the childish features, "the very one you wore about your neck
on that awful night."

"But where did it come from?" asked the father, taking it from his wife's
hand, and examining it with an interest that can hardly be described.

"There is no name with it," added Jennie, "and--do you know anything about
it, Tom?" sh