It was early in the morning, the day after Della's elopement, and Mr. Delancey, who had just risen, was walking back and forth upon the verandah, sipping his cup of strong coffee, nor dreaming of the shadow which had fallen on his hearth-stone. He was interrupted by a servant, who came to inform him that a messenger had just been sent, to say that one of the men, suspected of committing the robbery, had been arrested, and if he chose to see him, his case would come on the first one; and he might go early to the Recorder's Office of the Second Municipality.

Mr. Delancey decided to go; and without waiting for breakfast, which was always served late, he ordered his carriage, and drove directly to the spot.

When he entered the court-room, Guly was just giving in his testimony, and the crowd, that had congregated round, prevented the merchant from catching a glimpse of the prisoner. Guly gave his evidence in a clear, concise manner, recognizing the prisoner as the man he had seen in the store on the night of the burglary.

"I have here," he added, drawing a small parcel from his pocket, "something which was found by my employer's negro, in cleaning up the bow-window, the morning after the theft. He supposed it belonged to the burglars, and gave it me previous to his death, begging me to keep it, unless some one were arrested, whose property it might prove to be. I have not opened it, or looked upon it, and do not know even what it is."

He passed it to the judge, who, untying the paper, drew forth a small box, such as is usually used to contain articles of jewelry. Lifting the lid, he held up to view a superb diamond ring, the curious setting of which Guly recognized at once, as being the same as on a diamond ring, of like appearance, he had seen the prisoner wear. While examining it, some words engraved on the inside, caught the judge's eye, and turning it to the light, he read, in full, clear tones, the name of "Clinton Delancey."

At that moment there was a sudden opening in the crowd, and Mr. Delancey tottered forward, with features ashy pale, and the strong eyes softened almost to tears.

"My son, my son!"

A gleam of triumph shot into Clinton's gaze, as stretching forth his hand, he exclaimed:—

"Aye, father, behold your son! It was not here I thought next to see you when we parted last; but it is one of those retributive meetings, which come sometimes, God-appointed. What you see me, you have made me. By your own false pride I was forced to beg or steal. In taking from you, I felt I took but my just due. This shame be upon your own head!"

A dead silence fell upon all, and a glance of sympathy for Mr. Delancey ran round the court and the crowd of spectators; but, after a strong effort, the merchant drew himself to his full height, and, in a moment, all his coldness and flintiness of manner had returned to him. Turning to the Court, he said, firmly:—

"Let the law pursue its course," and passed from the room, striking his cane heavily down with each step, as Guly had often heard him do before.

The prisoner dropped his eyes, with a look of keen disappointment, and, at this moment, the strange figure of the dwarf forced itself in through the crowd, and, balancing himself on his crutches, stopped full in front of the judge.

"Hih! hih! Monsieur," he panted, turning his one eye up at the grave face of the officer, "I got something to say; please, sir, may I be heard?"

"Testimony with regard to this matter?"

"Yes, Monsieur; I hang round the courts, I find out what this man has done; I understand then something I saw him do. I may tell?"

The Court assented; and he went on to state where he had seen Clinton deposit the goods, on the night of the burglary, adding, that another man was with him, whom he did not know, but whose name the other had mentioned, and he remembered it was Quirk—Charley Quirk, he guessed, because sometimes Mr. Clinton addressed him as Charley, sometimes as Quirk, and he continued: "You go there, Mr. Court, you find ze goods where I tell you; hih! hih! you dig um up, an' give dis poor little wretch someting for his information."

The dwarf was dismissed, but waited to hear the end of the trial; and had the satisfaction of seeing Clinton, against whom the testimony was so strong, sentenced to five years' imprisonment; and the veritable Charley Quirk brought in under arrest, on the strength of his evidence. He then turned to go away, but catching sight of Guly, he advanced toward him, nodding his head, winking his great eye, and chuckling joyfully to himself.

"Hih, Monsieur; not seen you since that day you so sick in bed. Tink of you one great deal—miss you great deal—need your picayune a great deal—love me yet, Monsieur?"

"Yes, Richard," said the boy, kindly, laying his hand on his great ill-shaped head, as they went out together. "Have you suffered for want of my humble charity, in this great city, poor fellow?"

"No, Monsieur; I have lived on the dime the tall man gave me, in your room the other day. Hih, hih! but I've suffered for want of your face, Monsieur. Rare thing for poor Richard to look in any one's face, and remember he has said he loved such a dismal little thing as me; hih! rare thing that, yes."

Guly sighed as he listened to these touching, mournful words, and slipping some money into the dwarf's hand, bade him good-bye, telling him he would see him soon again, and hurried on to the store.

He missed Wilkins' kind face, as he passed his desk, and felt sad, when he remembered he might never see him there any more. Mr. Delancey was not in the store either, and there was evidence of the want of a presiding mind in the appearance of the whole store; clerks talking together in knots, while some of the customers were being neglected; goods still covered with the linen curtains, and counters undusted and unattended.

As Guly took his place, Arthur crossed over, and inquired, in a steady tone, but with an excited manner, how the trial had gone.

Guly informed him, at the same time telling him the fact of Clinton's proving to be Mr. Delancey's son.

Arthur started violently, and turned away to conceal the emotion which he could not repress, as he remembered he had unconsciously assisted a son to rob his own father! The thought brought so much remorse with it, that, seizing his hat, he started away to the nearest saloon, to procure something to drown the unpleasant memory. Guly looked after him with a deep sigh, feeling that what influence he might once have possessed over him, was gone for ever,—wrested from him by the overpowering hands of an honest pride, unjustly dealt with, and the attendant circumstances of evil society.

The memory of the voice, which came from beneath the mask on that fearful night, had never passed from the boy's heart; and though he studiously concealed his fears, he could but tremble at the conviction, that Arthur might, at any moment, share the fate of the unfortunate young man he had just seen convicted.

But, though Quirk and Clinton both were found guilty, they faithfully kept their oath, and threw no suspicion upon Arthur. Poor Jeff, who had felt convinced of his guilt, had allowed his secret to die with him, for Guly's sake; Wilkins had rejected any such idea he may have entertained, the moment he saw Arthur that night in bed, and Guly alone was left to his cruel doubts, with the memory of that familiar voice haunting him, always haunting him.