surprise and discomfiture,
that he had driven him into a mad-house. Rich as he was, therefore,
there was something very unsubstantial in his wealth, even to his own
apprehension. Sometimes it all seemed like a bubble, which a sudden
breath would wreck. Out of momentary despondencies, originating in
visions like these, he always rose with determinations that nothing
should come between him and his possessions and prosperities which his
hand, by fair means or foul, could crush.

Mr. Balfour, a lawyer of faultless character and undoubted courage, held
his secret. He could not bend him or buy him. He was the one man in all
the world whom he was afraid of. He was the one man in New York who knew
whether Benedict was alive or not. He had Benedict's heir in his house,
and he knew that by him the law would lay its hand on him and his
possessions. He only wondered that the action was delayed. Why was it
delayed? Was he, Mr. Belcher, ready for it? He knew he was not, and he
saw but one way by which he could become so. Over this he hesitated,
hoping that some event would occur which would render his projected
crime unnecessary.

Evening after evening, when every member of his family was in bed, he
shut himself in his room, looked behind every article of furniture to
make himself sure that he was alone, and then drew from its drawer the
long unexecuted contract with Mr. Benedict, with the accompanying
autograph letters, forwarded to him by Sam Yates. Whole quires of paper
he traced with the names of "Nicholas Johnson" and "James Ramsey." After
he had mastered the peculiarities of their signs manual, he took up that
of Mr. Benedict. Then he wrote the three names in the relations in which
he wished them to appear on the document. Then he not only burned all
the paper he had used, in the grate, but pulverized its ashes.

Not being able to ascertain whether Benedict were alive or dead, it
would be necessary to produce a document which would answer his purpose
in either case. Of course, it would be requisite that its date should
anticipate the inventor's insanity. He would make one more effort to
ascertain a fact that had so direct a relation to his future security.

Accordingly, one evening after his railroad scheme was fairly
inaugurated, he called on Mrs. Dillingham, determined to obtain from her
what she knew. He had witnessed for months her fondness for Harry
Benedict. The boy had apparently with the consent of the Balfours, bee