“Last week he paid off a mortgage on the farm of Mr. Pitcairn, and then made a present of it to the old gentleman.”

“What was the amount?”

“Several thousand dollars.”

“You are mistaken.  Mr. Pitcairn told me of it three days ago.  He had promised Mr. Gordon not to tell any one; but the farmer was so happy that he said he could not keep it back.  It was only three hundred dollars, however.”

“Then I was misinformed,” Catherwood hastened to say with a flush; “but I happen to know he is speculating in Wall Street, and betting on the races.”

“That is bad; is your information reliable?”

“There can be no doubt of its truth.”

“Have you any objection to telling me the channel through which this knowledge reached you?”

“I would be glad to do so, but the source at present is confidential.”

“Very well; I am sorry to hear this about Mr. Gordon, for, as you know, I held him in high regard.  For the present, let us keep the matter a close secret.  Do not let him see he is under suspicion, and we will not move until certain there can be no mistake in the matter.”

A few minutes later the two walked out of the front door, which was carefully locked behind them, and sauntered homeward.  The younger man went to the chief hotel of the town, while the elder continued up the highway, thinking deeply over the subject he had just discussed with Catherwood.

Now, it so happened that Josiah Warmore, the merchant, was a far shrewder man than G. Field Catherwood suspected.  If the latter had been playing a part, so had the former.

As has been intimated, it came to the knowledge of the merchant, about a fortnight before, that some one in his employ was systematically robbing him.  Gatherwood first dropped a hint, and then both investigated so far as the opportunity allowed.  The result turned suspicion toward Tom Gordon.  The merchant had learned, in the course of his long and varied experience, the sad truth that no man in the world can be picked out and declared, beyond all possibility of doubt, to be absolutely honest.  Thousands of people live and die and go to their graves wrapped in the mantle of unassailable integrity.  It may be they have not defrauded a person out of a penny, for the simple reason that the temptation has never been strong enough to make them do so.  Had it been a little stronger, they would have succumbed.  Others, after years of straightforward life, have fallen.  So it might be that, though he had given full trust to Tom Gordon, he was not worthy to receive that trust.  This half-belief caused the chill in his treatment of the young man, so different from that to which he had been accustomed.  Before making up his final judgment, however, Mr. Warmore resolved that every vestige of doubt should be removed.  He sent for Mr. Fyfe Lathewood, one of the shrewdest detectives in New York City, told him all the circumstances, and ordered him to find out the whole truth, no matter what it cost, or where it might strike.