talk
about honor, you are no man for me. That's a sort of nonsense that I
have no use for."

"Very well; my word of dishonor," responded the man, desperately.

"Now you talk. There's no use in such a man as you putting on airs, and
forgetting that he wears my clothes and fills himself at my table."

"I do not forget it, sir, and I see that I am not likely to."

"Not while you do business with me; and now, sit down and hear me. The
first thing you are to do is to ascertain whether Paul Benedict is dead.
It isn't necessary that you should know my reasons. You are to search
every insane hospital, public and private, in the city, and every
alms-house. Put on your big airs and play philanthropist. Find all the
records of the past year--the death records of the city--everything that
will help to determine that the man is dead, as I believe he is. This
will give you all you want to do for the present. The man's son is in
the city, and the boy and the man left the Sevenoaks poor-house
together. If the man is alive, he is likely to be near him. If he is
dead he probably died near him. Find out, too, if you can, when his boy
came to live at Balfour's over the way, and where he came from. You may
stumble upon what I want very soon, or it may take you all winter. If
you should fail then, I shall want you to take the road from here to
Sevenoaks, and even to Number Nine, looking into all the alms-houses on
the way. The great point is to find out whether he is alive or dead, and
to know, if he is dead, where, and exactly when, he died. In the
meantime, come to me every week with a written report of what you have
done, and get your pay. Come always after dark, so that none of
Balfour's people can see you. Begin the business, and carry it on in
your own way. You are old and sharp enough not to need any aid from me,
and now be off."

The man took a roll of bills that Mr. Belcher handed him, and walked out
of the door without a word. As he rose to the sidewalk, Mr. Balfour came
out of the door opposite to him, with the evident intention of taking a
passing stage. He nodded to Yates, whom he had not only known in other
days, but had many times befriended, and the latter sneaked off down the
street, while he, standing for a moment as if puzzled, turned, and with
his latch-key re-entered his house. Yates saw the movement, and knew
exactly what it meant. He only hoped that Mr. Belcher had not seen it,
as, indeed, he had not, having been