“You are certain of that, I suppose?” Fred asked.

“O, quite certain, because the gold is the first thing that I thought of when I found that my uncle had been murdered,” exclaimed the young fellow, with his eyes still cast to the floor.

“Do you suspect any one?” we asked, with a design to bring him out.

“There is blood upon your door step and floor, and the tracks lead this way,” he answered evasively.

I saw that he raised his eyes quick as lightning to note what effect his words had upon us; but meeting the stern glance of Fred, he again gazed upon the floor.

“I suppose that we might effect a compromise, and get somebody to swear that we did not molest your uncle, if we promised five hundred of the thousand ounces that the robbers and would-be assassins obtained,” Fred remarked, in an under tone, and in a careless sort of manner.

“I, for one,” the young fellow replied, “should never be disposed to ask questions, although you can imagine my feelings at the thought of the bad treatment that the old fellow received.  When can I have the dust?”

The question disconcerted Fred for a moment, for he had no idea that the fellow would answer as he did.

“As soon as your uncle is well enough to talk about money matters, we will mention the subject,” I rejoined, hastily.

“Well enough?” he asked; “I thought that you said he was dead.”

“O, bless you, no, indeed; he is far from being a dead man, and we hope, by proper treatment, to see him well in the course of a few weeks.”

The nephew’s face darkened, and his eyes looked snaky, as though he would like to strike, but dared not.  We motioned to him, and led the way to the small private room where Mr. Critchet was lying, and when he saw his uncle’s wan features, he turned pale, and his agitation was intense.

He saw that we were watching his movements, and tried to appear as though surprised, but the artificial effort was too much for him; and finally he turned and left the room, giving as an excuse that his feelings overpowered him.

“You can see the sufferer every day, if you are disposed,” Fred said, “but it must always be in the presence of witnesses.  When your uncle is well he can act as he pleases, but here he remains until cured.”

“Your language is mysterious, and seems to reflect upon me as a man of honor,” he exclaimed.  “Do I understand you to say that you suspect me of injuring my poor uncle, whom I loved above all earthly things?”

“With the exception of playing cards,” Fred added.

“You shall be sorry for your words, and perhaps I may make you appear in rather an equivocal light before many hours have passed;” and with a look of devilish malice the nephew, who had attempted to murder his old uncle for a few thousand dollars’ worth of gold dust, left the store, and we did not care if we never laid eyes upon his treacherous, cold-looking face again, although I had serious forebodings that we had not got rid of him entirely, and that he would work us injury.