r. Baldwin, in surprise.

"Yes; a body was found in the St. Lawrence, which was supposed
to be yours. It was buried with proper ceremony."

The old man smiled, but there was a certain sadness in the smile.

"It is, perhaps, only anticipating things a little," he said. "The
expenses shall be allowed."

"Of course you wish Mr. Tremlett to be informed without delay."

"Yes."

"He is to come to my office in an hour."

"Can you let me witness the interview?"

"Yes, sir. You can conceal yourself in the inner room, and I will
see him in the outer office, with the door ajar."

An hour later John Tremlett swaggered into Mr. Brief's office.

"Brief," said he, "I must have some money."

"Have you used up the hundred dollars I gave you four days since?"

"Every cent."

"I am afraid you squandered it."

"That is my business, Brief."

"You remember the warning I gave you at that time?"

"Come, Brief, you can't expect to keep me in leading-strings. I am
seeing life, and of course I must pay for it."

"A pretty round sum, too."

"Oh, well, I am making up for lost time. Old Baldwin kept me so
close that I had to live like a hermit for years. He starved me on
eight hundred dollars a year--the stingy old file!"

"Apparently you want to live at the rate of ten thousand dollars a
year now, Mr. Tremlett."

"Well, I can afford it for a year or two."

"You seem to forget that your income for the first year is not quite
five thousand."

"Then my creditors must wait, I am going to have my fling."

"It would make Mr. Baldwin turn in his coffin if he were to know
how you are wasting his substance."

"Very likely it would," said Tremlett, laughing heartily; "but there's
one comfort, he can't come back to trouble us."

"Don't be too sure of that, John Tremlett," said a voice which struck
terror to Tremlett's heart, and Mathew Baldwin walked out of the
inner office.

The young man's face turned as pale as ashes, and his knees knocked
together in his fright.

"Is it--you--Mr. Baldwin?" he ejaculated.

"Yes, it is I--your benefactor, the stingy old file, as you so gratefully
call me," answered the old man sternly.

"Then--you--are--not dead!"

"Not at present. How long I may live I cannot say, but long enough,
I hope, to do an act of justice."

"I am very sorry," stammered Tremlett. "Forgive me, sir."

"I may forgive you, because nothing has happened that cannot be
remedied; but I shall never again tru