course you remember it, sir. I was a widow, with a small property
of five thousand dollars left me by my late husband. It was all I had
on which to support myself and two children. The banks paid poor
interest, and I was in search of a profitable investment. One of your
circulars fell into my hands. The shares were two dollars each, and it
was stated that they would probably yield fifty per cent dividends.
That would support me handsomely. But I didn't decide to invest until
I had written a private letter to you."

She took it from the pocket of her dress, and offered it to Thomas
Browning, but that gentleman waved it aside.

She continued: "You indorsed all that the circular contained. You said
that within a year you thought he shares would rise to at least ten
dollars. So I invested all the money I had. You know what followed. In
six months the shares went down to nothing, and I found myself
penniless."

"I know it, my good woman," said Thomas Browning. "I know it, to my
cost. I myself had sixty thousand dollars invested in the stock. I
lost it all."

"But you seem to be a rich man," said the poor woman, looking about
her.

"I have made it out of other ventures. But the collapse of the mine
was a sad blow to me. As the president, I might have had something
from the wreck, but I did not. I suffered with the rest. Now, may I
ask what I can do for you?"

"It was on account of your advice that I bought stock. Don't you think
you ought to make up to me a part of the loss?"

"Impossible!" said Browning, sharply. "Didn't I tell you I lost much
more heavily than you?"

"Then you can do nothing for me?"

"Yes; I can put you on the pension list of the Widows' and Orphans'
Society. That will entitle you to receive a dollar a week for three
months."

"I am not an object of charity, sir. I wish you good-night."

"Good-night. If you change your mind come to me."

"Very unreasonable, upon my word," soliloquized Thomas Browning.

At eleven o'clock Mr. Browning went to his bedchamber. He lit the gas
and was preparing to disrobe, when his sharp ear detected the sound of
suppressed breathing, and the point from which it proceeded. He walked
quickly to the bed, bent over, and looked underneath. In an instant he
had caught a man who had been concealed beneath it.

The intruder was a wretchedly dressed tramp. Browning allowed the man
to get upon his feet, and then, facing him, demanded, sternly: "Why
are you here? Did yo