“Where?” asked Faith softly.

“At the undertaker’s,” was the answer.  “He has a private room for just such purposes.  He will bury her the next morning.”

“That will be better than I thought,” said Faith, very slowly.  “I will tell all the girls I know and ask them to tell the others.”

“Here’s the programme or whatever you choose to call it,” said Mr. Denton, sneering a little.  “The firm got ahead of us this time, Miss Marvin.”

He held out an evening paper as he spoke so that Faith could see it.

With a cry of horror the young girl read the headline.  It was a regular “scare head,” reaching across two full columns:  “Denton, Day & Co.’s Generosity to an Employee!” “A Poor Girl’s Funeral That Will Cost the Firm a Large Sum of Money!”

“How’s that for hypocrisy?” asked the young man, still sneering.  “I say, Miss Marvin, how would you like to be the child of such a father?”

For the first time in her life Faith could not rebuke disrespect.  In spite of herself she could not help sympathizing with the sentiments of the young fellow.

“Oh, it is terrible!” she whispered in a heart-broken voice.  “Poor Miss Jennings would rather have been buried in ‘Potter’s Field,’ I really believe, than under such conditions!”

“Well, I’m mighty disgusted,” said young Denton, bitterly, “although I’m sure I don’t know what’s got into me to care about it!”

“I guess you never knew just how you felt before,” said Faith sweetly.  “Sometimes it takes a shock of some kind to bring us to our senses.”

“Well, I’m shocked all right,” said young Denton, quickly.  “Why, when dad told me about that dying girl saying so distinctly that she forgave him, it went through me like a knife!  Cut me up worse, I believe, than it did the Governor!”

“Did it really disturb your father?” asked Faith, very eagerly.

“I should say it did!” remarked Mr. Denton, soberly.  “Why, the man can’t eat nor sleep!  I believe her spirit is haunting him!”

CHAPTER XXI.

A change in Mr. Denton.

“Well, Hardy what have you found out about the Watkins family?  Something satisfactory, I hope!”

Mr. Forbes spoke to the detective with unusual good nature.

But Hardy closed the office door and advanced to the desk where the superintendent was sitting.

“On the contrary, sir; I have found things very unsatisfactory,” was his answer.  “Watkins is in the hospital, half dead from brain fever, his mother is a feeble old woman without a penny, and as for that young scamp who stole your money, he’s among the missing—­he’s vamoosed entirely!”

“Well, why don’t you find him?” asked Mr. Forbes, a little less pleasantly.  “That’s what I told you to do!  Didn’t you understand my orders?”

“I haven’t had time to find him,” muttered the detective, sullenly.  “He’s been spirited away.  I think he’s out of the city.”