of arrivals. He had
to turn back a couple of pages and found this entry:

"THOMAS BROWNING, Milwaukee."

"His name is Browning, and he does come from Milwaukee," he said to
himself. "I thought, perhaps, he might have given me a false name,
though he could have no reason for doing so."

Luke felt that he must look farther for the man who had betrayed his
father's confidence.

"I didn't think there could be two men of such a peculiar appearance,"
he reflected. "Surely there can't be three. If I meet another who
answers the description I shall be convinced that he is the man I am
after."

In the afternoon the same man approached Luke, as he stood on his
accustomed corner.

"You may give me the _Mail_ and _Journal_," he said.

"Yes, sir; here they are. Three cents."

"I believe you are the boy who recognized me, or thought you did, this
morning."

"Yes, sir."

"If you ever run across this Mr. Thomas, of St. Louis, present him my
compliments, will you?"

"Yes, sir," answered Luke, with a smile.

"By the way, what is your name?"

"Luke Walton."

The gentleman started.

"Luke Walton!" he repeated, slowly, eying the newsboy with a still
closer scrutiny.

"Yes, sir."

"It's a new name to me. Can't your father find a better business for
you than selling papers?"

"My father is dead, sir."

"Dead!" repeated Browning, slowly. "That is un fortunate for you. How
long has he been dead?"

"About two years."

"What did he die of?"

"I don't know, sir, exactly. He died away from home--in California."

There was a strange look, difficult to read, on the gentleman's face.

"That is a long way off," he said. "I have always thought I should
like to visit California. When my business will permit I will take a
trip out that way."

Here was another difference between Mr. Browning and the man of whom
Luke's father had written. The stranger had never been in California.

Browning handed Luke a silver quarter in payment for the papers.

"Never mind about the change," he said, with a wave of his hand.

"Thank you, sir. You are very kind."

"This must be the son of my old California friend," Browning said to
himself. "Can he have heard of the money intrusted to me? I don't
think it possible, for I left Walton on the verge of death. That money
has made my fortune. I invested it in land which has more than
quadrupled in value. Old women say that honesty pays," he added, with
a sneer; "but it is nonsense. In th