th great interest. "He seems to write in good
faith," he said, as he handed it back.

"Yes; Sinclair is not so wicked as weak. I quite believe him when he
says that it was Bowman who instigated him to the deed."

"Do you think there is any chance of recovering the securities?" asked
Fred.

"That depends upon whether I can secure a discreet and trustworthy
messenger."

"Yes, sir; I suppose that is important."

"Perhaps you can suggest some one?" said the broker, eying Fred
attentively.

Fred shook his head.

"I have too few acquaintances to think of anyone who would be fit," he
answered.

"Would you undertake it yourself?" asked Mr. Wainwright.

"I?" stammered Fred in genuine surprise.

"Yes."

"But don't you think I am too young?"

"Perhaps your youth may be a recommendation."

"I don't see how, sir."

"By drawing away suspicion from you. Should I send a man, the
appearance of a stranger in a small place like St. Victor--I think it
has little more than a thousand inhabitants--would very likely excite
the suspicions of this Bowman, and so defeat the chances of success."

"Yes, sir, I see that."

"Of course your youth presents this objection--that you may not have
the requisite judgment and knowledge of the world for so delicate a
mission."

"That is what I am afraid of, sir."

"Still, I have observed you closely, and have found you prompt,
self-reliant, and possessed of unusual good sense. So, upon the whole,
having no other person in my mind, I have decided to send you to St.
Victor if you will consent to go."

"I will certainly go, sir, if you desire it, and will do my best to
succeed."

"That is all that any one could do, whatever might be his age and
experience. When will you be ready?"

"To-morrow, if you wish it, sir."

"The sooner the better. I shall provide you with ample funds to defray
your expenses. As to instructions, I have none to give. You must be
guided by circumstances, and fall back in times of perplexity upon your
natural shrewdness. Now let us address ourselves to the dinner."

CHAPTER XXVIII.

ST. VICTOR.

"So this is St. Victor," said Fred, as he got out of the train on the
Grand Trunk Railroad, and looked about him curiously.

It was a small, unpretending village, composed entirely of frame
houses, of modest size, and a few small stores kept, as the signs
indicated, by Frenchmen. On a little elevation stood a wooden Catholic
church, surmounted by a cross.