nished for the fault of some other person."

"Can you not remember back ten years?" she asked.

"Easily. I can live over again the last day I spent in New York ten
years ago."

"And the few days before that time?"

"Certainly, Miss Gilbert."

"And yet you ask why others should seek to punish you? Perhaps you are
one of those men whose natures are so dishonorable that you think you
did nothing wrong at that time."

"So it was then that I was supposed to have done this terrible
thing--whatever it was?"

"As you know, Mr. Prale."

"But I do not know, Miss Gilbert. To the best of my recollection I left
New York without having done anything in the least dishonorable; and
certainly I did nothing to merit a band of enemies working against me."

"What is it that you wish me to do?" she asked.

"Be fair with me, Miss Gilbert. I tell you that there is some terrible
mistake! If I am supposed to know all about this, what harm can there be
in your repeating the details to me? Tell me what crime I am supposed to
have committed to merit this attack. Give me a chance to prove my
innocence! The common thug gets that chance in a court of law, you
know."

"But this is ridiculous!" she exclaimed. "There can be no question of
it! The whole thing came out at the time."

"Then you do not wish to be fair?" Prale asked.

"I cannot allow you to say that. I will tell the story to you, Mr.
Prale, tell exactly what you did--as you know very well--if that will be
any satisfaction to you. But it will do you no good to deny it!"

"Tell me!" Sidney Prale said.

CHAPTER XXIII

A STARTLING STORY

"This is a painful subject for me, as you must be aware," Kate Gilbert
said. "I shall tell the story in as few words as possible, and if you
are a gentleman, you will not interrupt or cause me more suffering by
protesting your innocence."

"I promise not to interrupt," Sidney Prale replied. "I want justice and
nothing more, Miss Gilbert."

"Ten years ago you were a clerk in the office of Griffin, the big
broker, were you not?"

"Yes."

"Mr. Griffin took a fancy to you, after your father died and left you
alone in the world without any money. He gave you odd jobs to do around
his residence, fed and clothed you and arranged it so that you could go
to school. Your uncle, the father of George Lerton, your cousin, would
do nothing for you because there had been a family quarrel several years
before.

"Had it not been for Mr. Gri