I believe he will be faithful."

Here the interview ceased, and the gentleman who had taken the pains to
sift out the truth returned to Everton's office.

"Well," said he, on entering, "I believe I have got to the bottom of
this matter."

"What matter?" asked Everton, looking slightly surprised.

"The matter of Ayres's supposed attack upon you."

"Why do you say supposed?"

"Because it was only supposed. Ayres didn't write the article of which
you complain."

"How do you know?"

"I've seen the editor of the Gazette."

"Did he say that Ayres was not the author?"

"He did."

"Who wrote it then?"

"A man named Tompkins, who was at the time employed in his office."

Everton sprang from his chair as if he had been stung.

"Tompkins!" he exclaimed.

"So he says."

"Can it be possible! And I have the viper in my employment."

"You have?"

"Yes; he has filled the place of Ayres nearly ever since the latter was
dismissed from my office."

"Then you have punished the innocent and rewarded the guilty."

"So much for taking a thing for granted," said Everton, as he moved,
restlessly, about the floor of his office.

So soon as the editor of the ---- Journal was alone, he sent for
Tompkins, who was in another part of the building. As the young man
entered his office, he said to him, in a sharp, abrupt manner,--

"Do you remember certain articles against me that appeared in the
Gazette a few months ago?"

The young man, whose face became instantly red as scarlet, stammered
out that he did remember them.

"And you wrote them?"

"Ye--ye--yes; bu--but I have regretted it since, very much."

"You can put on your hat and leave my employment as quickly as you
please," said Mr. Everton, angrily. He had little control of himself,
and generally acted from the spur of the occasion.

Tompkins, thus severely punished for going out of the way to attack a
man against whom he entertained a private grudge, beat a hasty retreat,
and left Mr. Everton in no very comfortable frame of mind.

On being so unceremoniously dismissed from employment, Mr. Ayres, who
was by nature morbidly sensitive, shrank into himself, and experienced
a most painful feeling of helplessness. He was not of a cheerful,
confident, hopeful disposition. He could not face the world, and battle
for his place in it, like many other men. A little thing discouraged
him. To be thrust out of his place so unceremoniously--to be turned off
for another, s