their own recklessness has caused, and forget to credit
me with all the blessings my wearisome life has conferred upon them."

"The way of the world, sir," sighed Hankes, with the same stereotyped
philosophy.

"I know well," continued Dunn, not heeding the other's commonplace,
"that there are men who would utilize the station which I have acquired;
they'd soon convert into sterling capital the unprofitable gains that
I am content with. They 'd be cabinet ministers, peers, ambassadors,
colonial governors. It's only men like myself work without wages."

"'The laborer is worthy of his hire,' says the old proverb." Mr. Hankes
was not aware of the authority, but quoted what he believed a popular
saying.

"Others there are," continued Dunn, still deep in his own thoughts,
"that would consult their own ease, and, throwing off this drudgery,
devote what remained to them of life to the calm enjoyments of a home."

Mr. Hankes was disposed to add, "Home, sweet home;" but he coughed down
the impulse, and was silent.

Dunn walked the room with his arms crossed on his breast and his head
bent down, deep in his own reflections, while his lips moved, as if
speaking to himself. Meanwhile Mr. Hankes busied himself gathering
together his papers, preparatory to departure.

"They 've taken that fellow Redlines. I suppose you 've heard it?" said
he, still sorting and arranging the letters.

"No," said Dunn, stopping suddenly in his walk; "where was he
apprehended?"

"In Liverpool. He was to have sailed in the 'Persia,' and had his place
taken as a German watchmaker going to Boston."

"What was it he did? I forget," said Dunn, carelessly.

"He did, as one may say, a little of everything; issued false scrip
on the Great Coast Railway, sold and pocketed the price of some thirty
thousand pounds' worth of their plant, mortgaged their securities, and
cooked their annual accounts so cleverly that for four years nobody had
the slightest suspicion of any mischief."

"What was it attracted the first attention to these frauds, Hankes?"
said Dunn, apparently curious to hear an interesting story.

"The merest accident in the world. He had sent a few lines to the Duke
of Wycombe to inquire the character and capacity of a French cook.
Pollard, the Duke's man of business, happened to be in the room when the
note came, and his Grace begged he would answer it for him. Pollard, as
you are aware, is Chairman of the Coast Line; and when he saw the