An old, well-dressed and fine-faced gentleman called at Mr. Leonard’s store, and stood looking irresolutely down the long floor, as if in doubt whom to address. A salesman approached, supposing him to be a customer.

“What can I do for you, sir?” he asked.

“I came to inquire about a boy you have engaged here. I believe you have a boy?”

“Yes, sir. I hope there is nothing wrong about him. Has he been in mischief?”

“No, no. Just the contrary. Is he in?”

“Somewhere. He will be here in a minute. There he is now. I will send him to you.”

Will came readily at the call of the salesman, who directed him to his visitor.

“Want to see me?” asked Will, demurely, looking curiously at the old man.

“Yes, my lad,” was the reply. “You ran away so quickly the other day that I had no time to thank you for your kindness.”

“I twig you now,” said Will, vigorously. “You’re the old chap I picked up from under the car-wheels. Glad to see you ag’in.”

“I would like you to come to my house. I want to have a talk with you.”

“Ain’t got no notion of being talked to death,” said Will. “Let’s have it here.”

“No,” said the old gentleman, decidedly. “I can’t interfere with Mr. Leonard’s business. Here is my card. I hope you will call on me this evening. What is your name, my lad?”

“Willful Will is what folks generally call me. I s’pose that’s name enough. What’s yourn?”

“My name is John Somers.”

“Hanged if the old chap ain’t got the same name as I have,” said Will to himself.

“Well, I’ll swim round your way some time afore long,” he said, aloud. “Live out Arch street, hey? That’s grandeur.”

“I am wealthy, my lad, and alone in the world. I try to do some little good with my money. I owe you a debt of gratitude which I wish to repay.”

“All right. I’m your hoss,” said Will, energetically. “Don’t want no gratitude, an’ nothin’ else I don’t earn with my fingers and toes. But I’ll get round jist to see how you live.”

After some few words more Will’s visitor departed leaving that young gentleman in a whirl of suppressed amusement.

Will went reflectively back to his work.

At the same hour that Will was holding this interview with the grateful old gentleman, John Elkton was holding an interview of another character with his betrothed.

He had received a brief note from her that morning, vaguely detailing the suspicions in regard to her silken bow, and asking him to meet her.

The letter had produced a strong effect on his mind. He read it again and again, the mystery remaining unexplained to him. He could only understand that he had been accused of some crime.

“What does it mean, Jennie?” he asked. “Your note is as mysterious as a Sphinx. Have I murdered somebody and forgotten it?”

“It is in relation to this,” she replied, holding out the bow. “It is claimed that this silk was stolen, and they suspect you of being implicated.”

“Who claims so? Who suspects me?” he cried, hotly.

“Mr. Leonard declares most positively that it is a piece of some silk that has just been stolen from him.”

“This is a strange story you tell me, Jennie,” he said, leaning his head reflectively on his hand. “You told Mr. Leonard that I gave you the silk?”

“I did not!” she broke out, impulsively. “I refused to tell him. I suffered torments when I heard this terrible story, heard doubts cast on you. I refused bitterly to answer him. I do not know what he thought. He did not seem to suspect you.”

“Who did, then?” asked her lover, looking intently into her eyes.

“It was his confidential clerk, Mr. Augustus Wilson. I have had a distressing interview with him. He accuses you openly of theft, and says that he has convincing proofs against you.”

“He lies, then,” cried John, indignantly. “I defy him to his proofs. Did he tell you what they were?”

“No. He promised to conceal or destroy them, if I wished.”

“Promised! It was only a promise?”

“A promise with a proviso. I was, if I would save you, to break our engagement, to accept his love, to promise to be his wife.”

“Well, that’s cool!” said John, with a long breath. “I’m to be thrown overboard, it seems. And of course you felt great pity and consideration for me, and wanted to save me, and saw no way to do it but by accepting this desirable offer?”

His tones were full of bitterness.

She laid her hand on his lips with a touch that was almost a blow. Indignation flamed into her face.

“You are not serious in that question?” she cried. “You cannot think so meanly of me? Accept him! I rejected him with the scorn his base offer deserved. I told him Jennie Arlington was not for sale.”

“That’s my own Jennie,” he replied, kissing her burning lips. “I knew how you would answer such a suit.”

“Yet I did it with a horrible fear at my heart—a fear that he had the proofs, that he would have you arrested for theft.”

“Do I understand that you thought me capable of such a crime?”

“No, no! I knew you were innocent, but I knew how suspicious circumstances will sometimes condemn an innocent man. Valuable silks have been stolen from Mr. Leonard. You have some of them in your possession. You will be required to explain how you obtained them, and to save yourself by revealing the real culprit.”

He threw himself in his chair, and leaned his head heavily upon his hands. Marks of painful reflection passed over his face. She looked eagerly but doubtfully into his speaking countenance.

“Tell me, John,” she said, “where did you get the silk? Who gave it to you, or how did you obtain it?”

He remained silent a minute longer before answering her question.

“I cannot, Jennie,” he replied. “It is a secret which I cannot reveal.”

She passed over to him and took his hand in hers, looking eagerly into his downcast eyes.

“Not even to me, John?” she asked.

“Not even to you, Jennie,” he replied.

She took her seat again, a look of deep distress upon her face. Was this love? This the confidence with which love should be crowned?

“My secrets are yours,” he said, catching at the meaning of her action. “This is not my secret, and I am not at liberty to reveal it.”

“And am I to understand, John Elkton,” she broke out, “that you are the recipient of a disgraceful secret? That you are concerned with criminals? That you have made me a receiver of stolen goods? I repelled the insinuation with scorn when made by another. I did not expect to have it confirmed by yourself.”

“Now, Jennie, you are hot and hasty again,” he said, rising, and passing his hand over her flushed brow. “You will force me to say what I had rather not. I received the silk innocently. That is all I can say at present.”

“You tell me much in that,” she said, with a smile of relief. “You do not know how sick at heart I felt when I thought you were accusing yourself. I believe you firmly, John. But, suppose they accuse you? Such an answer will not serve.”

“They will get no other. Not yet, at least.”

But we must close this conversation, as it ceases here to interest us. Shortly after, John saw her to the car, on her way home.

He had still another interview that afternoon. It was after Jennie was well on her way home, and he had returned to his office duties, that his name was called in the store, and he was informed that a gentleman had asked to see him.

He went out. The person who advanced to meet him was a stranger: a slender, sharp-eyed man.

“Mr. Elkton?” he asked, with a keen look at John’s face.

“That’s my name,” was the reply.

“I wish a few words with you,” he said, leading out of hearing of the salesman.

“I shall be happy to oblige you in any way,” said John, “but excuse me for hoping that you will be brief, as I am quite busy.”

“I will not detain you long,” said the other, “but will do my business at once. You know a lady named Miss Arlington?”

“Yes,” replied John, wondering.

“You lately presented her with a small piece of silk, of peculiar pattern?”

“Well, sir, to what do these questions tend?” asked John, reddening.

“Only that I would be glad to have you inform me where you got that silk.”

“Suppose I decline to inform you?”

“I hope you will not,” replied the other, coolly, “as in that case I shall be obliged to put you to personal inconvenience.”

“Who are you?” asked John.

“My name is Fitler,” replied the other. “I am a detective officer. I have to inform you that the silk in question was stolen. I hope and believe that you can satisfactorily explain your possession of it. But I shall require you to do so.”

“I can, but not at present.”

“It must be done at present.”

“Must is a strong term, Mr. Fitler. I decline to be governed by it.”

“Which means that you will not explain. Or else that you cannot. Your refusal gives me a disagreeable duty, Mr. Elkton.”

“Which is?” replied John, coolly.

“To arrest you, on a criminal charge,” said Mr. Fitler, laying his hand heavily on John’s shoulder.