hought
Bowman, "at least a part of the way. It will be some time before I
shall dare to set foot in New York."

Bowman went to bed with a vague feeling of uneasiness for which he
could not account. He felt that it would be impossible for him to
remain in the dull little village any longer. Should he, or should he
not, go to see Sinclair before he went away? On the whole he resolved
to secure the bonds first, and then decide.

The next day after breakfast he strolled down to the lake, got out the
boat, and rowed rapidly toward the farther shore. There was no time to
waste now. He tied the boat to a sapling growing close to the bank, and
struck into the woods.

He made his way at once to the tree which he had used as a safe deposit
vault, and with perfect confidence thrust in his hand. But the package
which his fingers sought for seemed to have slipped out of reach. He
continued his search anxiously, with increasing alarm, but in vain.

A terrible fear assailed him. He peered in through the cavity, but
neither sight nor touch availed. Gradually the terrible thought was
confirmed--the parcel had been stolen! Thirteen thousand five hundred
dollars, nearly the entire proceeds of his crime, had vanished--but
where?

He staggered to a stump close by, and sitting down, buried his face in
his hands. What was he to do? He had but twenty-five dollars left.

"Who can have taken it?" he asked himself with feverish agitation.

He rose and made his way mechanically back to the boat.

An hour later he staggered into the little cottage occupied by his sick
partner. His hair was disheveled, his manner wild.

"What is the matter, Bowman?" asked Sinclair.

"We are ruined!" said Bowman in a hollow voice. "The bonds are gone!"

"When did you miss them?" asked Sinclair quickly.

"To-day. They were safe yesterday. Do you think it was the boy?"

"What could he know of the bonds? Did you ever speak to him about
them?"

"Of course not. What shall I do?"

"Inquire whether any one has been seen near the place where you hid
them. Do your best to recover them."

This advice struck Bowman favorably. He devoted the remainder of the
day to the inquiry, but learned nothing. There was no further occasion
to remain in St. Victor. He left the inn in the evening, forgetting to
pay his reckoning.

CHAPTER XXXV.

FRED'S REWARD.

John Wainwright, the wealthy banker, sat in his office looking over the
letters that had come by the m