After the clerk had left him, Paul Morton began to consider what was best to be done. He had at first been inclined to despise this man as insignificant and incapable of mischief, but the interview which he had just had convinced him that on this point he was mistaken. It was evident that he was in the clerk's power, and just as evident that the latter wanted to be bought off.

"After all, it is not so bad," he said to himself, "he has his price; the only question is, whether that price is an exorbitant one or not. I must make the best possible terms with him."

There was another question to be decided, and that related to his ward—young Robert Raymond.

Should he send him back to school or not?

While he was pondering as to this question, an idea occurred to him.

Why should he not kill two birds with one stone, by placing his ward in the charge of James Cromwell, with a liberal allowance, to be deducted from his ward's income for his trouble? Not that he considered the clerk, of whom he knew next to nothing, and that little not to his credit, a suitable person to have the charge of a boy. But then, he was not a conscientious guardian, and his only desire was, so to arrange matters as best to subserve his own interests. Besides, there were certain plans and hopes which he cherished that could best be subserved by a man not over scrupulous, and he judged rightly that James Cromwell would become a pliant tool in his hands if he were paid well enough for it.

He was not surprised to receive another visit from the clerk on the evening succeeding the interview which was chronicled in the last chapter.

"Well," he said, when the latter was ushered into his presence, and they were left alone, "what have you to tell me?"

"I have lost my situation," said Cromwell, briefly.

"Then your employer was offended at your silence?"

"Yes; he said he must know who bought the article."

"And you refused to tell him?"

"I did. Upon this he said that he had no further occasion for my services, and that under the circumstances he must refuse me a recommendation. So you see I have got into serious trouble on account of keeping your secret."

Paul Morton winced at the last two words, but he didn't comment upon them.

Could the late employer of James Cromwell have heard the assertions just made by his clerk, he would have opened wide his eyes in astonishment. The fact was that the clerk had alleged failing health as a reason for giving up his situation, and had at that very moment an excellent recommendation from his employer in his pocket. It must be said that he deserved it, for he had been a faithful and competent assistant in the shop, however destitute he might be of moral qualities. But James Cromwell had no idea of entering the shop of another druggist. His ideas had been enlarged, and he aspired to something less laborious, and more remunerative.

"I must see what I can do for you," said Paul Morton, who was quite prepared for the communication which had been made him. "Last evening I did not see any way clear, but a plan has since then occurred to me. But it is necessary that I should first know a little more about you. Have you ever been in the West?"

"Yes, sir, I was born in Indiana."

"Then you have some acquaintance about there?"

"Yes, sir," said the clerk, wondering what was coming.

"How would you like to buy out a drug-shop in some prosperous Western town? As a proprietor the business might be more agreeable to you than as a clerk."

"Yes, sir, it would," said the clerk, brightening up. The prospect of a business of his own struck him favorably.

"But I have no money," he added.

"That matter could be arranged," said the merchant. "Of course I cannot pay except for services rendered, but I have a charge to intrust you with."

James Cromwell awaited with interest and curiosity what should be said next.

Paul Morton continued:

"I have been thinking," he said, "that it will be better for my ward's health that he should reside in the West. My opinion is that the rough winds of the Atlantic coast may be injurious for him, but I have been puzzled to decide upon a competent man to take charge of him. I am inclined to think that as you have nothing to prevent your going out West, and moreover, are acquainted with the country, it will suit my views to give you the general oversight of Robert. He can board at the same place with you, and go to school."

"What shall I receive for my services?" asked James Cromwell, coming at once to that part of the business which was to him of the greatest importance.

"I have been thinking of that," said the merchant. "How much will it cost to buy out a fair druggist's shop?"

"It might be managed for two or three thousand dollars."

"Two thousand dollars will be quite enough, I am sure. Very well, I am willing to buy you such a business, and allow you besides, a thousand dollars a year for the charge of the boy. Out of this you will pay for his board and clothes, and the balance you can keep for your trouble."

"There won't be much left," grumbled the clerk, though the offer exceeded what he anticipated. Still he wished to make the best bargain he could.

"Half of it will be left," said the merchant; "his board in a Western town won't cost more than two hundred and fifty dollars a year, leaving the same sum for his clothing and miscellaneous expenses. That will consume only one-half of the money, leaving you five hundred, besides what you can make from your business."

"How old is the boy?"

"Fourteen years old."

"Do you think he will be willing to come with me?"

"It doesn't make much difference whether he is willing or not. As his guardian, it is my right to make such arrangements for him as I choose."

"How soon do you wish me to undertake the charge?"

"As soon as you can. Do you think of any town or village where you think it would suit you to settle down?"

"Yes," said James Cromwell, after a pause, "I think of one town where I heard that the druggist wished to sell out."

"What is the name of the town?"

"Barton."

"And where is it located?"

"In the southern part of Indiana."

"Yes, that will do."

There was a pause at this point. James Cromwell was waiting to learn what farther communication the merchant might have to make. The latter hesitated because he wished to come to an understanding on a certain point which it required some delicacy to introduce.

"I suppose," he commenced, "when you inquired the boy's age, you wished to understand how long this arrangement was likely to last?"

"Yes, sir. That is an important consideration."

"Then again," said Paul Morton, trying to speak indifferently, "of course there is the contingency of his early death, which would cut off your income arising from the allowance I make for him."

"Yes," said the clerk, "but if I remember rightly, it would be a benefit to you, for you would inherit the property in his place."

"Yes; that was the arrangement his father made without my knowledge. But that has nothing to do with you. I will tell you what I have decided to do in the contingency which I have just named. If the boy dies, you will be an annual loser; I will agree to give you outright such a sum as will produce an equal annual income, say ten thousand dollars."

"You will give me ten thousand dollars if the boy dies?"

"Yes; should he be removed by an early death, though, of course, that is not probable, I will make over to you the sum I have named."

"Ten thousand dollars?"

"Yes; ten thousand dollars, as a testimonial of my appreciation of your services in taking charge of him. That certainly is a liberal arrangement."

"Yes," said James Cromwell, in a low voice, his pale face a little paler than its wont, for he knew as well as his employer, that the sum mentioned was indirectly offered him as an inducement to make way with the boy. He could not prove it, of course, but it was clear to his own mind, and Paul Morton meant that it should be.

"Come here to-morrow," he said, rising, as a signal of dismissal, "and meanwhile I will prepare my ward for the new plans which we have been discussing."

James Cromwell rose, and his mind in a tumult of various emotions, left the house in Twenty-ninth Street.