“That’s pretty conclusive evidence, isn’t it?” said John Vincent, tapping the marked bills.

“I didn’t dream of it,” said the restaurant keeper.

“I did. I suspected him as soon as you told me he was trying to fasten suspicion upon Grant Colburn.”

“You don’t think the boy had anything to do with the theft?”

“I feel sure of it. The boy is an honest boy. You have only to look in his face to see that. I haven’t been a detective for nothing. I may be mistaken at times, but I can generally judge a man or boy by his face.”

“Does Benton know that you suspect him?”

“No. I wasn’t going to give myself away. By the way, he had quite a stroke of luck tonight.”

“At the gambling-house?”

“Yes. At one time he was a winner of nearly or quite five hundred dollars.”

“Then he will be able to make up to me the amount he has taken.”

“Don’t flatter yourself! I said he was a winner of that amount at one time. I didn’t say he went out with that sum. As a matter of fact, he lost it all, and left the place probably without a dollar.”

Smithson looked disappointed.

“Then,” he said, “I shan’t get my money back.”

“I am afraid not.”

“He must have taken hundreds of dollars.”

“Quite likely.”

“The villain!” exclaimed the restaurant keeper. “And I have paid him so liberally, too!”

“Well, Smithson, it might have been worse. I suspect you have a pretty tidy sum laid by.”

Smithson’s face changed, and he looked complacent.

“Yes, Vincent,” he said. “I’m worth a little money.”

“Good! Look upon this as a little set-back that won’t materially affect you, and put it down to the account of profit and loss.”

“Very, good! I will do so. But to-morrow I will give Mr. Benton his walking ticket.”

Albert Benton came to work as usual in the morning. His employer came in half an hour late. By this time the waiter had become resigned to his disappointment of the night previous. He recognized his folly in not making sure of the large sum he had at one time won, and determined to act more wisely in future.

Presently, when he chanced to be unemployed, Smithson beckoned to him.

“Benton,” he said, “you remember my speaking to you about missing money from the till?”

“Yes, sir; but I thought you decided that it was only a falling off in receipts.”

“Yes, I said that; but it seems to me that the deficiency is too great to be accounted for in that way.”

“You may be right, sir. You remember what I told you about the boy?”

“You think he took the money?”

“I feel about sure of it.”

“And you think he gambles it away?”

“Such is my impression.”

“How am I to find out the truth of the matter?”

“I would suggest that you have the boy searched. I feel sure that you will find that he has a considerable sum of money in his pocket.”

“That may be, but he will say that he has saved it from his wages.”

“Oh, yes; I have no doubt he will say so,” said Benton, nodding his head significantly.

“And it may be true. He doesn’t seem to spend much.”

“He has bought some clothes.”

“True; but he was quite able to do so out of what I pay him and have money left over.”

“Well, I hope it is so. I don’t want to harm the boy, but I thought it only due to you to tell you what I know.”

“You don’t appear to know much. You only suspect. However, I will call Grant and see what he has to say.”

Grant, being summoned, came up to where they were standing.

“Do you want to speak to me, Mr. Smithson?” he asked.

“Yes, Grant; about an unpleasant matter.”

“Have I done anything wrong? Are you dissatisfied with me?”

“I can’t say. The fact is, for some time past I have been missing money from the drawer.”

Grant’s look of surprise was genuine.

“I am very sorry to hear it,” he said.

“Of course the money could not have disappeared of itself. Some one must have taken it.”

“I hope you don’t suspect me,” said Grant quickly.

“I have always regarded you as honest, but Benton here tells me that you have formed some bad habits.”

“I should be glad to know what Mr. Benton has to say about me,” said Grant, regarding his fellow waiter with indignation. Benton, in spite of his assurance, could not help looking confused and ill at ease.

“He tells me that you are in the habit of visiting gambling saloons.”

“He has told you a falsehood,” said Grant boldly.

“I told you he would deny it, Mr. Smithson,” said Benton, determined to face it through.

“Has he seen me in a gambling-house?” demanded Grant.

“I have seen you coming out of one.”

“That’s false. If he can find any one to confirm his false charge, I will not object to your believing it.”

“I have no doubt a good many have seen you there.”

“Is there any other charge he brings against me, Mr. Smithson?”

“He says he has seen you under the influence of liquor.”

“That also is false. He has invited me to go into a saloon and take a drink, but I always refused.”

“Oh, you are an angel!” sneered Benton.

“I don’t pretend to be an angel, but I am honest and temperate, and I never drink.”

“I think, Mr. Smithson, if you will search the boy you will find a good sum of money in his pocket.”

“Is that true, Grant?” asked the restaurant keeper.

“Yes, sir. I have about a hundred dollars in my pocket.”

“I told you so,” said Benton triumphantly.

“I never knew there was anything wrong in saving money,” retorted Grant. “I am anxious to get together money enough to warrant me in going to the mines.”

“There is nothing wrong in that,” said Smithson kindly. “And now, Grant, that we have had Benton’s testimony against you, I want to ask you what you know against him.”

“I would rather not tell,” answered Grant.

“That is very creditable to you; but you must remember that you have a duty to me, your employer. Have you seen him enter a gambling-house?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Grant reluctantly.

“I told you, sir, that I had looked in once or twice,” said Benton, ill at ease.

“Only once or twice?”

“Well, I won’t be precise as to the number of times.”

“Were you in a gambling-house last night?”

“Yes; I looked on.”

“How long did you stay?”

“A few minutes.”

“Did you play?”

“No,” answered Benton hesitatingly.

“I wish I knew how much he knows,” thought Benton. “Somebody must have been telling him about me.”

“What, then, was your object in going in?”

“I was wakeful, and thought I would while away a few minutes there. When I felt sleepy, I withdrew.”

Just then Vincent entered, as previously arranged between him and Smithson.

“Mr. Vincent,” said the proprietor, “did you see either of my waiters in a gambling house last evening?”

“I saw him,” pointing to Benton.

“He admits that he went in, but says he did not play.”

“He seems to be forgetful,” said Vincent coolly. “He played for a considerable time, and had a great run of luck.”

Benton said nothing. He looked very much discomposed, but waited to see how much Vincent could tell.

“So he was a winner?”

“He won nearly five hundred dollars.”

“That doesn’t look as if he were the novice he claims to be.”

“But he didn’t keep his winnings. He kept on playing till he lost all he had won.”

“You must remember, sir,” interrupted Benton, “that a green hand is often luckier than a practiced gambler.”

“So I have heard.”

“And if I did play, that doesn’t convict me of having stolen money from your till.”

“That is true.”

“I was foolish, I admit, and I mean to give up the practice.”

“You said you didn’t play.”

“Because I thought it would make you think I was guilty of theft.”

“On that point I have other evidence.”

“What is it? If Grant says he saw me take anything he lies.”

“I have not said it, Mr. Benton.”

“Then I should like to know what evidence you can bring against me.”

“Do you remember these two bills?” asked Vincent, taking out his wallet and producing two five-dollar notes.

“Well, what about them?” asked Benton doggedly.

“I gave you two gold pieces for them last evening.”

“Yes; I believe you did.”

“You took them from the money drawer before you left the restaurant.”

“That is false!”

“Do you see the cross, in red ink, on the reverse side of the bills?”

“Well, what of it?”

“I marked the bills in that way, so as to be able to trace them.”

“Well,” said Benton faintly.

“They were put into the drawer at three o’clock yesterday afternoon. They must have been taken out some time between that hour and the time when you produced them in the gambling-house.”

“I am the victim of a conspiracy,” said Benton, turning pale.

“If it is a conspiracy to put my friend here on your track,” said Smithson, “then you have some color for your statement. Mr. Vincent is an old detective.”

Albert Benton was silenced. Ingenious as he was, there was nothing left for him to say.

“Now, Benton,” said Mr. Smithson, “how much have you taken from me during the time you have been in my employment?”

“Perhaps a hundred dollars,” answered Benton sullenly.

“I am very much mistaken if the amount is not four or five times as great. Are you prepared to make restitution?”

“I have no money.”

“Then I shall feel justified in ordering your arrest. Your guilt is aggravated by your seeking to throw the blame on Grant.”

“I have a valuable diamond at home. I will turn that over to you,” said Benton, with a sudden thought.

“How much is it worth?”

“I paid three hundred dollars for it.”

“You can go and get it.”

Benton took off his apron, put on his hat, and left the restaurant.

Half an hour—an hour—passed, and he did not return.

“Mr. Smithson,” said Vincent, “the fellow has given us the slip. He won’t come back, nor will you ever see anything of his diamond. I don’t believe, for my part, that he had any.”

The detective was right. Benton managed to borrow fifteen dollars of a friend, and within an hour he had left Sacramento for good.