"Philip," said his mother, at the breakfast table the next morning, "the servant tells me she found the outside door unlocked this morning. Didn't I ask you to lock it before you went to bed?"

"So you did, mother. I really hope you'll excuse me. When I got ready to go to bed, I forgot all about it."

"It might have proved serious," remarked his father, "for I found this morning that I had left my bunch of keys on my desk. I don't see how I came to be so negligent."

"It's lucky no burglar or dishonest person knew of it," said Mrs. Ross. "You might have met with a serious loss."

"So I might, for I had about a thousand dollars' worth of government bonds in my trunk, besides certificates of various kinds of stock. The latter would have done no one any good, though the loss would have annoyed me, but the government bonds might readily be sold."

"I shouldn't think you'd keep the trunk downstairs, father," said Philip, who felt easy, as there seemed no likelihood of suspicion being fixed upon him.

He resolved so to act as to divert any future suspicion.

"I don't know but it is imprudent," said Colonel Ross.

"Of course it is," said his wife. "You deserve to suffer loss."

"I will take it upstairs hereafter," said her husband, "especially," he added, jocularly, "if Philip is to be trusted to lock the front door."

Philip smiled, but his smile was not exactly an easy one, for he was every minute apprehensive that it would occur to his father to open the trunk and examine the contents. He did not want this to happen till he was out of the way, for it would be rather a trial to his nerves to hear the announcement made of the loss, while he knew that the missing bonds were concealed in his inside coat pocket.

Philip was in a hurry to see Congreve, and get rid of his troublesome deposit. He hurried through his breakfast, therefore, and rose from the table.

"You've eaten very little, Phil," said his mother.

"Oh, I'm not hungry," said Philip, carelessly. "I didn't get up early enough to raise an appetite."

"You got up as early as usual," said his father.

"Perhaps reading in the evening didn't agree with me," replied Philip, smiling.

"Where are you going?" asked his mother.

"Just out for a walk."

"Will you call at the grocery store and tell them to send up a barrel of flour?"

"All right."

Usually Philip, who was far from obliging naturally, made a fuss when asked to do an errand, but now he spoke very good-humoredly. He was so anxious to get out of the house that he was ready to promise anything.

"I really think Philip is improving," said his mother, after he had gone out.

"There's some room for it," remarked his father, dryly.

Philip, as may be supposed, made his way as quickly as possible to the hotel. As he came up, he saw the one of whom he was in search—James Congreve—standing on the piazza, smoking a cigarette.

"Well?" he said, guessing something from the evident excitement of Philip's manner.

"Let us go up to your room, Congreve," said Phil.

"All right."

He led the way upstairs to the small room which he occupied as a bedroom, and Philip followed him in. The latter carefully closed the door.

"I've got 'em," he exclaimed, triumphantly.

"The bonds? You don't say!"

"As true as you stand there."

"Let me see them."

Philip drew the bonds from his pocket, and handed them to Congreve.

The latter said, joyfully:

"You're a trump, Phil!"

"Yes, I think I managed pretty well," said Phil, complacently.

"Tell me how you did it."

So Phil explained.

"You were in precious luck, I can tell you. I had no idea things would turn in your favor so. Let me see—here are two one-hundreds."

"Yes; that's what you said."

"True. Were there more in the trunk?"

"Yes; I heard father say there were a thousand dollars in bonds."

James Congreve's face was overspread by an expression of covetousness.

"It's a pity you didn't take more," he said.

"But what was the need of taking more? These will pay my debt to you."

"Of course. Still, it seemed such a good chance."

"You don't think I'm going to set up as a thief, do you, Congreve?" asked Philip, in surprise.

"No, of course not. I didn't mean anything. Well, Phil, the sooner these are disposed of the better."

"You are going to attend to that?"

"Yes. I believe I will take the next train up to the city."

"When will you be back?"

"To-night. I will bring you the balance of the money—say, fifty dollars."

"There ought to be more than that for me."

"Oh, it will be all right! Only, you know, I will have to sell them below the market price, at some place where no questions are asked."

"I've no doubt you'll do the square thing," said Philip, who did not know that this statement of Congreve's was only a flimsy pretense to enable him to appropriate a larger share of the plunder, as it may fairly be called.

"I'll promise you fifty dollars, whatever the bonds bring," said Congreve.

"Thank you."

"Now, I must get ready, for the next train leaves for the city in half an hour."

"I'll go along with you to the depot," said Philip.

"No, you'd better not. After the loss is discovered, it might excite some remark, and possibly suspicion, if it were remembered."

"Then I'll be going. I've got an errand over at the store. Shall I see you to-night?"

"You'd better not come around till to-morrow morning. It may help avert suspicion."

"Just as you say."

"A pretty good haul!" said Congreve to himself. "I didn't think the little fool would have spunk enough to do it, but he has. I may pay him that fifty dollars, and then again I may not. I don't think I shall care to come back again to this dull hole to-night. I shall have to leave my trunk, but it isn't worth the sum I owe the landlord, and he is welcome to it. With the price of these bonds I can start anew cheaper."

Philip left his friend, without the least suspicion that he intended to play him false. He felt very comfortable. He had got the bonds out of his possession, so that there was no danger of their being found on him, and he was to receive, the next morning, fifty dollars, a larger sum than he had ever possessed at one time in his life. He made up his mind that he would put it away in his trunk, and use it from time to time as he had occasion for it.

He went to the grocery store, and left his mother's order. Then he took an aimless walk, for Congreve was away, and there was no one else he cared to be with.

So he turned to go home. He rather dreaded to enter the house, lest his father might have discovered his loss. In the yard he saw Tom Calder. Tom, remembering what he had seen the evening before, looked at Philip with a significant grin, but said nothing.

"What are you grinning at?" demanded Philip,

"Nothing. I feel gay and festive, that is all," responded the stable boy.

"Where's my father?"

"He went out to ride in the buggy."

Philip felt relieved. Evidently the loss had not been discovered yet. He was glad to have it put off.

"Is there any news?" asked Tom, with another grin.

"News? Why should there be any?"

"I don't know. I thought you might know of some."

"You talk like a fool," said Philip, angrily, and went into the house.

"There'll be some news soon, I reckon," said Tom to himself, with a grin. "I won't say nothing till the time comes. Wonder if Philip'll think I am talking like a fool then?"