As Andy went out of the shop he experienced a feeling of relief.  He saw that he would be able to prove his innocence through the testimony of the pawnbroker and his wife.  He was in no hurry.  It would do when Mr. Flint returned.  He did not want the friendly jeweler to think that he had been dishonest.

It was clear that he was the victim of a conspiracy, and that the plot had been engineered by Simon Rich and carried out by his nephew.

As Andy’s board was paid by Walter Gale, he would not be distressed by want of employment, but would be able to remain in New York.  He might obtain another position, though he foresaw that it would be useless to apply to Simon Rich for a letter of recommendation.

He had not gone more than a hundred feet when he met a boy whom he knew, named James Callahan.

“How do you happen to be here, Andy?” he asked.  “Are you on an errand for the firm?”

“I have left them.”

“Why is that?”

“They—­or rather the clerk—­charged me with stealing a gold watch and pawning it.”

“Where?” asked the boy, in some excitement.

Andy pointed out the pawnbroker’s shop from which he had just come.

“I saw John Crandall coming out of there yesterday.”

“You did?”

“Yes.”

“I am not surprised.  The pawnbroker described to me the boy who pawned the watch, and I recognized John from the description.”

“What does it all mean?”

“Mr. Flint has gone out West, and Mr. Rich and John have conspired to get me into trouble.”

“When were you discharged?”

“Less than an hour since.”

“Who has taken your place?”

“John Crandall.”

James Callahan whistled.

“I see,” he said.  “It was thundering mean.  What are you going to do about it?”

“Wait till Mr. Flint comes home.  Give me your address.  I may want to call you as a witness.”

Callahan gave his number on Ninth Avenue.

“I will note it down.”

“How are you going to get along while you are without a place?” asked James, with friendly solicitude.

“I have a friend who will pay my board.”

“Good!  I am glad to hear it.”

“Now,” thought Andy, “I have a chain of proof that will clear me with
Mr. Flint.  That is what I care most about.”

CHAPTER XX.

AN INVITATION TO DINNER

Andy reached his boarding house at four o’clock.

“What brings you home so early, Mr. Grant?” asked Warren, whose door was open.  “Is business poor?”

“It is with me,” answered Andy; “I am discharged.”

“You don’t tell me so!  How did it happen?”

“My employer is out West, and the head salesman has discharged me and engaged his nephew in my place.”

“It’s a shame.  What shall you do about it?”