emark, but I know, and I am the
only person living who does know. It was GOODSON. I knew him well, many
years ago. I passed through your village that very night, and was his
guest till the midnight train came along. I overheard him make that
remark to the stranger in the dark--it was in Hale Alley. He and I
talked of it the rest of the way home, and while smoking in his house.
He mentioned many of your villagers in the course of his talk--most of
them in a very uncomplimentary way, but two or three favourably: among
these latter yourself. I say 'favourably'--nothing stronger. I remember
his saying he did not actually LIKE any person in the town--not one; but
that you--I THINK he said you--am almost sure--had done him a very great
service once, possibly without knowing the full value of it, and he
wished he had a fortune, he would leave it to you when he died, and a
curse apiece for the rest of the citizens. Now, then, if it was you that
did him that service, you are his legitimate heir, and entitled to the
sack of gold. I know that I can trust to your honour and honesty, for in
a citizen of Hadleyburg these virtues are an unfailing inheritance, and
so I am going to reveal to you the remark, well satisfied that if you
are not the right man you will seek and find the right one and see that
poor Goodson's debt of gratitude for the service referred to is paid.
This is the remark 'YOU ARE FAR FROM BEING A BAD MAN: GO, AND REFORM.'

"HOWARD L. STEPHENSON."

"Oh, Edward, the money is ours, and I am so grateful, OH, so
grateful,--kiss me, dear, it's for ever since we kissed--and we needed
it so--the money--and now you are free of Pinkerton and his bank, and
nobody's slave any more; it seems to me I could fly for joy."

It was a happy half-hour that the couple spent there on the settee
caressing each other; it was the old days come again--days that had
begun with their courtship and lasted without a break till the stranger
brought the deadly money. By-and-by the wife said:

"Oh, Edward, how lucky it was you did him that grand service, poor
Goodson! I never liked him, but I love him now. And it was fine and
beautiful of you never to mention it or brag about it." Then, with a
touch of reproach, "But you ought to have told ME, Edward, you ought to
have told your wife, you know."

"Well, I--er--well, Mary, you see--"

"Now stop hemming and hawing, and tell me about it, Edward. I always
loved you, and now I'm proud of you. Eve