LITMIR.BIZ

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in a handsome boarding-house, and fare like a gentleman."

      While he was thinking thus, his attention was drawn to a conversation which he heard beside him. The speakers were apparently two business men.

      "What do you think of Morton's business position?"

      "What Morton do you mean?"

      "Paul Morton."

      "If you want my real opinion, I think he is in a critical condition."

      "Is it as bad as that?"

      "Yes, I have reason to think so. I don't believe he will keep his head above water long unless he receives some outside assistance."

      "I have heard that whispered by others."

      "It is more than whispered. People are getting shy of extending credit to him. I shouldn't be surprised myself to hear of his failure any day."

      James Cromwell listened eagerly to this conversation. He was sharp of comprehension, and he easily discerned the motive arising in Paul Morton's embarrassed affairs, which should have led him to such a desperate resolution as to hasten the death of a guest. There was one thing he did not yet understand. Paul Morton must be sure that the death of the sick man would rebound to his own advantage, or he would not incur such a risk.

      "Probably, it is his brother or uncle, or, perhaps, father," concluded the clerk. "Whoever it is, it makes little difference to me. Let him play out his little game to the end, and enter into possession of his money, which, by the way, I hope will be a pretty good pile. Then I will step quietly in, and with what I know of a certain purchase, it will be very strange if I cannot help myself to a generous slice."

      After finishing his cigar, the druggist's clerk went out of the hotel, and it being a fine, moonlight evening, he concluded to walk home. As he walked, his mind was full of pleasing reflections. He looked about him with disgust, as he entered his humble and not very attractive home, and he soliloquized:

      "If things go right, I won't live here much longer, nor will I stand behind the counter of a two-penny druggist's shop, at ten dollars a week."

      CHAPTER VI.

      THE FACE AT THE FUNERAL

      "Ralph, here is your son," said Paul Morton, ushering the boy into the sick chamber of his father.

      The sick man turned his face toward those who had just entered, and his face lighted up as his glance rested on his son.

      "I am glad you have come, Robert," he said.

      "Dear father," said Robert, bursting into tears, "how sick you are looking!"

      "Yes, Robert," said Ralph Raymond feebly, "I am not long for this world. I have become very feeble, and I know that I shall never leave this chamber till I am carried out in my coffin."

      "Don't say that, father," said Robert in tones of grief.

      "It is best that you should know the truth, my son, especially, as my death cannot be long delayed."

      "You will live some months, father, will you not?"

      "I do not think I shall live a week, Robert," said his father. "The sands of my life are nearly run out; but I am not sorry. Life has lost its attractions for me, and my only desire to live would proceed from the reluctance I feel at leaving you."

      "What shall I do without you, father?" asked the boy, his breast heaving with the painful sobs which he was trying in vain to repress.

      "I shall not leave you wholly alone, my dear boy. I have arranged that you may be in charge of my old friend, Mr. Morton, who, I am sure will take the tenderest care of you, and try to be a father to you."

      "Yes," said Paul, coming forward, "as your father says, I have promised to do for you what I can when he has left us. I would that he might be with us for many years, but since Providence in its inscrutable wisdom has ordained otherwise, we must bow to the stroke and do the best we can."

      He put his fine cambric handkerchief to his eyes to wipe away the tears which were not there, and seemed affected by deep grief.

      Robert cast a glance at the friend to whom he was to be consigned, but saw nothing to inspire confidence. There are some who almost unconsciously attract children, and draw young hearts to them in love and confidence. But Paul Morton was far from being one of the class. There was much in his crafty, insincere face to repel, little to attract, and so Robert judged, though he did not think of it at that time. He rather wondered why he felt so little drawn toward the man whom his father praised so highly; but the instincts of childhood were right; and the boy found no subsequent reason to correct his first impressions.

      The interview did not last long, for it was apparent that the excitement was acting unfavorably upon the sick man, whose strength was now very slight. So Paul Morton left the room, but by Ralph's request Robert was left behind, on condition that he would not speak. The boy buried his head in the bed clothes and sobbed gently. In losing his father he lost his only relative, and though he had not seen very much of him in his lifetime, that little intercourse had been marked by so much kindness on the part of his father, that apart from the claims of duty arising from relationship, he felt a warm and grateful love for his parent. The bitterness of being alone in the world already swept over him in anticipation, and he remained for hours silent and motionless in the sick chamber of his father.

      Matters continued thus for two days. During that time Paul Morton came little into the sick chamber. Even his audacious and shameless spirit shrank from witnessing the gradual approaches of that death which had been hastened by his diabolical machinations.

      Besides, there was no object to be gained, he thought. Death was now certain. There was no need of his doing anything more to hasten it. Then, as to the disposition of the property, there was no chance now of any change being made in the arrangement. He knew precisely what advantage he was himself to reap from his friend's death, and though it was not so great as he at first anticipated, it would be enough to put a new face upon his affairs.

      Besides, he would have the entire control of his ward's property, and he did not doubt that he could so use it as to stave off ruin, and establish himself on a new footing. Then again, there was the contingency of the boy's death; and upon this, improbable as it was, he was continually dwelling.

      After two days the end came.

      The nurse came hurrying into the room of her master, and said, "Come quick, Mr. Morton. I think the poor gentleman is going."

      "Not dying?" asked Paul Morton, with a pale face, for though expected, the intelligence startled him.

      "Yes; you must come quick, or you will not see him alive."

      Paul Morton rose mechanically from his chair, and hastily thrust into his pocket a sheet of paper on which he had been making some arithmetical calculations as to the fortune of his dying guest, and following the nurse entered the sick chamber.

      It was indeed as she had said. Ralph Raymond was breathing slowly and with difficulty, and it was evident from the look upon his face, that the time of the great change had come.

      Robert stood by the bedside holding his father's hand, and sobbing bitterly.

      As Paul Morton entered, the dying man turned his glazing eyes toward him, and then toward the boy at his side, as if again to commend him to his care.

      Paul understood, and with pale face he nodded as if to assure the dying man that he undertook the trust.

      Then a more cheerful look came over the face of Ralph. He looked with a glance of tender love at his son, then his head sank back, his eyes closed, and the breath left his body.

      The deed was consummated! Ralph Raymond was dead!

      "Poor gentleman! So he's dead!" said the nurse with a professional sigh, "and no doubt he's better off."

      No answer was made to this remark. Neither Paul Morton nor Robert seemed inclined to speak. The former was brought face to face with the consequence of his crime. The latter was filled with the first desolation of grief.

      Three days later the funeral took place. Paul Morton took care that everything should be in strict accordance with the

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