Johnson's hasty exclamation was heard with blank amazement by his two confederates.

"What do you mean, Colonel? Ain't the bonds there?" asked Travers.

"Do you call these bonds?" demanded Johnson savagely, as he pointed to the neatly folded brown paper. "You must have brought back your own parcel, and left the genuine one with the bank messenger."

"No," said Travers, shaking his head; "our package was filled with old newspapers. This is different."

"It is evidently only a dummy. Was it the only parcel Carver had?"

"Yes, it was the only one."

"Is it possible the villain has fooled us?" said Johnson, frowning ominously. "If he has, we'll get even with him—I swear it!"

"I don't know what to think, colonel," said Travers. "You can tell better than I, for you saw him about this business."

"He didn't seem like it, for he caught at my suggestion greedily. There's another possibility," added Johnson, after a pause, with a searching glance at his two confederates. "How do I know but you two have secured the bonds, and palmed off this dummy upon me?"

Both men hastily disclaimed doing anything of the kind, and Johnson was forced to believe them, not from any confidence he felt in them, but from his conviction that they were not astute enough to think of any such treachery.

"This must be looked into," he said slowly. "There has been treachery somewhere. It lies between you and the messenger, though I did not dream that either would be up to such a thing."

"You don't think the bank people did it, do you?" suggested Brandon.

"I don't know," said Johnson slowly. "I can't understand how they could learn what was in the wind, unless one of you three blabbed."

Of course, Travers and Brandon asseverated stoutly that they had not breathed a word to any third party.

Johnson was deeply perplexed, and remained silent for five minutes.

At length he announced his decision.

"We can do nothing, and decide upon nothing," he said, "till we see Carver. He went on to Boston, I conclude?"

"Yes, sir."

"He will be back to-morrow. We must watch the trains, and intercept him."

Leaving this worthy trio in Portland, we follow Ephraim Carver to Boston. As the cars sped on their way, he felt an uneasy excitement as he thought of his treachery, and he feared he should look embarrassed when he was called to account by the Boston bank officials. But there was a balm in the thought of the substantial sum he was to receive as the reward of his wrongdoing. That, he thought, would well repay him for the bad quarter of an hour he would pass in Boston.

"Five thousand dollars! Five thousand dollars!" This was the burden of his thoughts as he considered the matter. "It will make me independent. If I can keep my post, I will, and I can then afford to be faithful to the bank. If they discharge me, I will move away, for my living without work, and having money to spend, would attract suspicion if I continued to live in Chester. Somewhere else I can go into business for myself. I might stock a small dry-goods store, for instance. I must inquire into the chances of making a living at that business."

So, in spite of his treachery, Ephraim Carver, on the whole, indulged in pleasing reflections, so that the railroad journey seemed short.

Arrived in Boston, he found that he had just time to go to the bank and deliver his parcel within banking hours.

"I may as well do it, and have it over with," he said to himself.

So, with a return of nervousness, which he tried to conceal by outward indifference, he made his way to the bank to which he was commissioned.

He had been there before, and was recognized when he entered.

He was at once conducted into the presence of the president.

To him he delivered the parcel of bonds.

"That will do, Mr. Carver," said the president. "You may go outside while I examine them."

He was ushered into the ordinary room, and waited five minutes. He was trying to brace himself for an outburst of surprise, perhaps of stormy indignation, and searching cross-examination, when the president presented himself at the door of his private office.

"That will do," he said. "You can go, Mr. Carver."

Carver stared at him in blank amazement. This was precisely what he did not expect.

"Have you examined the bonds?" he asked.

"Of course," answered the president.

"And you find them all right?" continued the messenger, with irrepressible surprise.

"I suppose so," answered the president. "I will examine more carefully presently."

"Then you don't wish me to stay?" inquired Carver.

"No; there is no occasion to do so."

Ephraim Carver left the bank in a state of stupefaction.

"What can it all mean?" he asked himself. "The man must be blind as a bat if he didn't discover that the package contained no bonds. I don't believe he opened it at all."

So Carver was left in a state of uncertainty. On the whole he wished that the substitution had been discovered, so that the president could have had it out with him. Now he felt that a sword was impending over his head, which might fall at any time. This was unpleasant, for he did not know what to expect.

He went back to Portland by a late train, however, as he had arranged to do.

At the depot he met Colonel Johnson. He was puzzled to find that Johnson did not look as jubilant as he anticipated, now that their plot had succeeded. On the other hand, he looked grave and stern.

"Well, colonel, how goes it?" he asked.

"That is for you to say," returned Johnson. "You have seen Brandon and Travers, I suppose?"

"Yes, I have seen them."

"Then it's all right, and the parcel is in your hands."

"He takes it pretty coolly," thought Johnson. "I can't understand what it means. I must get to the bottom of this thing. Well, how did they take it at the bank?" he added, aloud. "Did they make any fuss?"

"No," answered the bank messenger. Johnson was surprised.

"They didn't question you about the parcel you brought them?"

"No; they told me it was all right, and let me go."

"Then they must have got the bonds," said Johnson hastily.

"What! haven't you got them?" asked the messenger, in genuine surprise.

"No," said Johnson bitterly. "The fools brought me a package stuffed with sheets of brown paper."

Carver stared at him in open-mouthed amazement.

"I don't understand it," he said. "I can't account for any parcel of the kind."

"They couldn't have made the exchange at all. This must have been their own parcel."

"No," said Carver; "theirs was stuffed with old newspapers."

"That was what they said."

"They told the truth. I helped them make up the parcel myself."

"Then it must have been their parcel that is now in the hands of the bank."

"It seems likely."

"Then where are the bonds?" demanded Johnson sternly.

"That is more than I can tell," said the bank messenger, in evident perplexity.

"It's enough to make a man tear his hair to have such a promising scheme miscarry," said Johnson gloomily. "I wish I could lay my finger on the man that's responsible for it."

"I can't understand it at all, colonel. We followed out your instructions to the letter. Everything went off smoothly."

"Can you tell me where are the bonds?" interrupted Johnson harshly.

"No, I can't."

"Then you may as well be silent."

"I will follow your directions," said Carver submissively. "What do you wish me to do?"

Johnson reflected a moment. Finally he said:

"Take the earliest morning train to Chester. I will stay here. So will the other two men."

"Anything further?"

"Only this: Keep your eyes and ears open when you get home. If you hear anything that will throw light on this affair, write or telegraph, or send a special messenger, so that I may act promptly on your information. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. Your directions shall be followed. I am as anxious as you are to find out why we failed."