the bills which I had carried in my
breast pocket, rolled up in a piece of newspaper, put them in the
money-belt, and strapped it around me. It did not feel comfortable at
first; but the very annoyance it caused served to remind me that my
money was safe.

Mr. and Mrs. Macombe were very good, pious people, and, wherever they
were, would as soon have thought of going without their food, as of
staying away from divine service; and we went to church with them three
times on Sunday. They would not even talk about worldly affairs on that
day; and Kate and I were probably saved from answering a great many
questions included under the head of forbidden topics. They seemed to be
greatly pleased to know that I regularly attended the Sunday school at
home. So pure, and true, and good were they, and so much interested in
me, that I wanted to tell them all about my own affairs, and to ask them
whether I had done wrong in taking the will and the money from my
uncle's safe; but I concluded that for the present it would be safer for
me to keep my own counsels. They were excellent people, but their very
simplicity of character might lead them to betray and injure me.

On Monday forenoon, leaving Kate with Mrs. Macombe, while her husband
was attending to his business affairs, I went in search of the four
persons by the name of Loraine. I had written down the address of each,
and obtained from Kate all the information she possessed in regard to
her father. I decided to try one of the merchants first; and as Mrs.
Loraine doubtless knew the name of her deceased husband's brother, I
half expected to meet Tom Thornton blockading the door of the uncle's
counting-room.

When I saw, on the opposite side of the street, the sign "Mortimer
Loraine & Co.," I made sure that Tom Thornton was not in sight, and then
went in. I was directed to the private office of the senior partner. He
was a cold, stiff, formal man, and eyed me from head to foot with a kind
of contempt which I did not appreciate.

"Your business with me, young man?" demanded he, in cast-iron tones.

According to Parkville etiquette, he ought to have asked me to sit
down, and I was waiting for him to do so.

"I called to ask, sir, if you ever had a brother by the name of Austin
Loraine," I replied.

"No, sir," answered he, gruffly.

"Excuse me for troubling you, then, sir," I added, bowing and
retreating.

"Who was Austin Loraine?" he demanded.

"It's of no consequence, s