“But they know you there.  You worked a week in the employ of Marsh & Co.  You forget that.”

“It was at one of their branch stores,” was the reply, “and they had never heard of Armstrong there, and had never seen him.  I left in a week.  I did not resemble my cousin so much at that particular time for the reason that my mustache was shaven off then.  Without that you would be surprised to see what a wide difference there is between us.”

“It is a great scheme, if you are sure that you can carry it through,” said Halloran, breathing hard and eying his companion fixedly.

“Trust that to me,” replied Kendale, jumping up and walking the floor to and fro excitedly.

It was midnight when Halloran left Kendale’s apartments.  During those long hours the two plotters had concocted a diabolical scheme, which they meant to carry out ere the morning light dawned.

All unconscious of the nefarious plot against his life, Lester Armstrong was up with the sun the next morning, and was down to the office at an early hour transacting the great amount of business that he found upon his hands, contingent upon being the head of the firm of which he had for so many years been but an humble cashier.

Despite the sudden wealth which had come to him, all that day he felt a strange depression of the heart, a strong impression of impending evil, which he could not shake off.  Even those about him noticed what a gloomy look there was in his eyes.

He was the last one to leave the great building that night, and as he stepped out upon the sidewalk, he muttered to himself:  “I wonder what is about to happen to me, my heart feels so heavy, so depressed.”

CHAPTER XIII.

In the toils of the conspirators.

Lester Armstrong had no sooner stepped to the pavement than he was accosted by a man who stepped suddenly up to him.

“Mr. Armstrong?” he said, interrogatively, touching his hat respectfully.

“Yes,” responded Lester, “what can I do for you?”

“I am here on a deed of mercy.  A friend of mine, an employee of yours, sir, has met with a serious accident and calls for you repeatedly.  I am a hackman, and I volunteered to come for you and ask you to let me take you to him.  It is not very far.  My cab stands right here.”

“I will go to the poor fellow, certainly,” responded Lester, hurrying to the vehicle in question and hastily entering it.

In a moment the driver had mounted the box and was off like the wind.  It did not occur to Lester until he was well under way that he had not thought to inquire who the injured man was.

As the cab rolled swiftly along over the crowded thoroughfare, Lester leaned back and gave himself up to his own thoughts.

Wealth had come to him, and with it honors had crowded thick and fast upon him.  The world of society held out its arms eagerly to him.  Lovely young girls, matrons of the house, offered their congratulations to him with the most bewitching of smiles, and mothers with marriageable daughters from all over the city opened an account with the great dry goods house, whose sole owner was a young and handsome bachelor.