quite sincere in his
boast, as we know from his conversation with Carl.

"By the way," said Stark, on this particular evening, "I never asked you
about your family, Leonard. I suppose you live with your parents."

"No, sir. They are dead."

"Then whom do you live with?"

"With my uncle," answered Leonard, guardedly.

"Is his name Craig?"

"No."

"What then?"

"I've got to tell him," thought Leonard. "Well, I don't suppose there
will be much harm in it. My uncle is bookkeeper for Mr. Jennings," he
said, "and his name is Julius Gibbon."

Philip Stark wheeled round, and eyed Leonard in blank astonishment.

"Your uncle is Julius Gibbon!" he exclaimed.

"Yes."

"Well, I'll be blowed."

"Do you--know my uncle?" asked Leonard, hesitating.

"I rather think I do. Take me round to the house. I want to see him."

CHAPTER XXI.

AN UNWELCOME GUEST.

When Julius Gibbon saw the door open and Philip Stark enter the room
where he was smoking his noon cigar, his heart quickened its pulsations
and he turned pale.

"How are you, old friend?" said Stark, boisterously. "Funny, isn't it,
that I should run across your nephew?"

"Very strange!" ejaculated Gibbon, looking the reverse of joyous.

"It's a happy meeting, isn't it? We used to see a good deal of each
other," and he laughed in a way that Gibbon was far from enjoying. "Now,
I've come over to have a good, long chat with you. Leonard, I think
we won't keep you, as you wouldn't be interested in our talk about old
times."

"Yes, Leonard, you may leave us," added his uncle.

Leonard's curiosity was excited, and he would have been glad to remain,
but as there was no help for it, he went out.

When they were alone, Stark drew up his chair close, and laid his hand
familiarly on the bookkeeper's knee.

"I say, Gibbon, do you remember where we last met?"

Gibbon shuddered slightly.

"Yes," he answered, feebly.

"It was at Joliet--Joliet Penitentiary. Your time expired before mine.
I envied you the six months' advantage you had of me. When I came out I
searched for you everywhere, but heard nothing."

"How did you know I was here?" asked the bookkeeper.

"I didn't know. I had no suspicion of it. Nor did I dream that Leonard,
who was able to do me a little service, was your nephew. I say, he's a
chip of the old block, Gibbon," and Stark laughed as if he enjoyed it.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I was lying in a field, overcome by liquor, an old weak