that he walked most of the way from Colorado to New York. This fall he
turned up in the city, ragged, worn out, sick. I wanted to order him
away, but I couldn't. I took him back and got him decent clothes and
took him to look for a place, for I knew that hard work was the only
thing that would keep him out of mischief. He did not find a place,
perhaps he did not look for one. But all at once I discovered that he
had money. He would not tell me how he got it. I knew he could not have
come by it honestly, and so I watched him. I spied after him, and at
last I found that he was selling you to the Tuxedo Company."

"But how could he open the safe?" cried Mr. Wheatcroft. "You didn't
know the new combination."

"I did not tell him the combination I did know," said the old
book-keeper, with pathetic dignity. "And I didn't have to tell him. He
can open almost any safe without knowing the combination. How he does
it, I don't know; it is his gift. He listens to the wheels as they
turn, and he sets first one and then the other; and in ten minutes the
safe is open."

"How could he get into the store?" Mr. Whittier inquired.

"He knew I had a key," responded the old book-keeper, "and he stole it
from me. He used to watch on Sunday afternoons till Mike went for a
walk, and then he unlocked the store, and slipped in and opened the
safe. Two weeks ago Mike came back unexpectedly, and he had just time
to get out of one of the rear windows of this office."

"Yes," Paul remarked, as the Major paused, "Mike told me that he found
a window unfastened."

"I heard you asking about it," Major Van Zandt explained, "and I knew
that if you were suspicious he was sure to be caught sooner or later.
So I begged him not to try to injure you again. I offered him money to
go away. But he refused my money; he said he could get it for himself
now, and I might keep mine until he needed it. He gave me the slip
yesterday afternoon. When I found he was gone I came here straight. The
front door was unlocked; I walked in and found him just closing the
safe here. I talked to him, and he refused to listen to me. I tried to
get him to give up his idea, and he struck me. Then I left him, and I
went out, seeing no one as I hurried home. That's when Mr. Wheatcroft
followed me, I suppose. The boy never came back all night. I haven't
seen him since; I don't know where he is, but he is my son, after
all--my only son! And when Mr. Wheatcroft accused me, I confesse