M R. KENYON shrugged his shoulders, and smiled, when he read Oliver's letter.

"So the young cub is showing his claws, is he?" he said to himself. "I fancy he will find it harder to punish me than he supposes. Where will he get the power? Money is power, and I have the money." "Yes," he continued, his sallow face lighting up with exultation, "I have played boldly for it, and it is mine! Who shall dispute my claim? My wife is in a mad-house, and likely to remain there, and now Oliver is disposed of. I wish he would go to sea, and never be heard of again. But at any rate I am pretty safe so far as he is concerned."

Oliver did not expect to terrify Mr.Kenyon with his threats. He, too, felt his present want of power; but he was young, and he could wait. Indeed, the question of punishing his step-father was not the one that first demanded his attention. He had but twenty dollars in the world, and no expectations. He must find work of some kind, and that soon. Now, unluckily for Oliver, the times were hard. There were thousands out of employment, and fifty applications where there was one vacancy. Day after day he answered advertisements without effect. Only once he had a favorable answer. This was in a great dry-goods house.

"Yes," said the superintendent, who was pleased with his appearance and manners, "we will take you, if you like to come."

Oliver brightened up. His sky seemed to be clearing.

"Perhaps you will object to the pay we give," said the superintendent.

"I don't expect much," said our hero, who thought he would accept for the present, if he were only offered six dollars.

"We will pay you two dollars a week for the first six months."

"Two dollars a week!" exclaimed Oliver in dismay.

"For the first six months. Then we will raise you to four if you do well."

"Then I can't come," said Oliver despondently. "I shall have to live on my salary, and I couldn't possibly live on two dollars a week."

"I am sorry," said the superintendent; "but as we can get plenty of boys for two dollars, we cannot break our rule."

Oliver went out, rather indignant.

"No wonder boys are tempted to steal," he thought, "when employers are so mean."

It was getting rather serious for him. His money had been dwindling daily.

"John," he said to his room-mate one evening, "I must give up this room at the end of the week."

"Are you out of funds?"

"I have but fifty cents left in the world."

"I can't keep the room alone. When is our week up?"

"To-morrow evening."

"I will take my old room. I know it is still vacant. What will you do?"

"I don't know. I haven't money enough to take any room."

"I wish I had some money to lend you; I'd do it in a minute," said John heartily.

"I know you would, John, but you have hard work scraping along yourself."

"I'll tell you what I can do. Come to my little room, and we'll take turns sleeping in the bed. It is only eighteen inches wide, or we could both occupy it at a time."

"I'll come round and sleep on the floor, John. I won't deprive you of your bed. I wish I knew what to do."

"Perhaps Mr.Bond would take you back."

"No, he wouldn't. I am convinced that there was a conspiracy to get rid of me. I might try my hand at selling papers."

"You are too much of a gentleman to go into the street with the ragged street boys."

"My gentility won't supply me with board and lodging. I mustn't think of that."

"Something may turn up for you to-morrow, Oliver."

"It won't do to depend on that. If I can turn up something, that will be more to the purpose. However, this is our last night in this room, and I won't worry myself into a sleepless night. I will get my money's worth out of the bed."

Oliver was not given to dismal forebodings or to anticipating trouble, though he certainly might have been excused for feeling depressed under present circumstances. He slept soundly, and went out in the morning, active and alert.

He took a cheap breakfast—a cup of coffee and some tea-biscuit—for ten cents. He rose from the table with an appetite, but he didn't dare to spend more money. As it was, he had but forty cents left.

About one o'clock, after applying at several stores for employment, but ineffectually, he found himself standing at the corner of Fifth Avenue and Fourteenth Street.

A tall gentleman, with a dignified air, probably seventy years of age, accosted him as he stood there.

"My young friend," he said, "will you dine with me?"

Oliver looked at him in astonishment to see if he was in earnest.

"I do not wish to dine alone," said the other. "Be my guest unless you have dined."

"No, sir, I have not dined; but I am a stranger to you."

"Very true; we shall get acquainted before dinner is over."

"Then I will accept your invitation with pleasure, sir. It is the more acceptable because I am out of a situation and have very little money."

"You are well dressed."

"Very true, sir. My dress is deceptive, however."

"All that is irrelevant. Come, if you please."

So Oliver followed his new acquaintance to Delmonico's restaurant. They selected a small table, and a waiter approached to receive orders.

"I hope you are hungry," said the old gentleman. "Pray do justice to my invitation."

Oliver smiled.

"I can easily do that, sir," he said. "I made but a light breakfast."

"So much the better. What kind of soup will you have?"

Oliver selected turtle soup, which was speedily brought.

It is unnecessary to enter into an elaborate description of the dinner. It is enough that Oliver redeemed his promise, and ate heartily; his new acquaintance regarding him with approval.

"Will you have some wine?" he asked.

"No, sir," replied Oliver.

"You had better try some champagne."

"No, thank you."

"At least you will take some coffee?"

"Thank you, sir."

The coffee was brought, and at length the dinner was over.

"Thank you, sir," said Oliver, preparing to leave his hospitable entertainer. "You have been very kind. I will bid you good-day."

"No, no, come home with me. I want to have a talk with you."

Oliver reflected that his new acquaintance, who had been so mysteriously kind, might be disposed to furnish him with some employment, and thought it best to accept the invitation, especially as his time was of little value.

Twenty minutes' walk brought them to the door of a fine brown-stone house on a street leading out of Fifth Avenue.

The old gentleman took out a latch-key, opened the front door, and signed to Oliver to follow him upstairs. He paused before a front room on the third floor. Both entered. The room was in part an ordinary bed-chamber, but not wholly. In one corner was a rosewood case containing a number of steel instruments.

The old gentleman's face lighted up with strange triumph, and he locked the door.

Oliver thought it singular, but suspected no harm.

"Now, my young friend," said the old man, "I will tell you why I brought you here."

"If you please, sir."

"I am a physician, and am in search of a hidden principle of nature, which I am satisfied can only be arrived at by vivisection."

"By what, sir?" exclaimed Oliver, whom the feverish, excited air of the old man began to startle.

"I propose to cut you up," said the old man composedly, selecting an ugly looking instrument, "and watch carefully the——"

"Are you mad, sir?" exclaimed Oliver, aghast. "Do you wish to murder me?"

"You will die in behalf of science," said the old doctor calmly. "Your death, through my observations, will be a blessing to the race. Be good enough to take off your coat."

Oliver was horror-struck. The door was locked, and the old man stood between him and escape. It was evident that he was in the power of a maniac.

"Is my life to end thus?" he asked himself, in affright.