When it came time for the young man to leave, with the privilege of an old servitor Berry went up to him to bid him good-bye.  He held out his hand to him, and with a glance at his brother, Frank took it and shook it cordially.  “Good-bye, Berry,” he said.  Maurice could hardly restrain his anger at the sight, but his wife was moved to tears at her brother-in-law’s generosity.

The last sight they saw as the carriage rolled away towards the station was Berry standing upon the steps waving a hearty farewell and god-speed.

“How could you do it, Frank?” gasped his brother, as soon as they had driven well out of hearing.

“Hush, Maurice,” said Mrs. Oakley gently; “I think it was very noble of him.”

“Oh, I felt sorry for the poor fellow,” was Frank’s reply.  “Promise me you won’t be too hard on him, Maurice.  Give him a little scare and let him go.  He ’s possibly buried the money, anyhow.”

“I shall deal with him as he deserves.”

The young man sighed and was silent the rest of the way.

“Whether I fail or succeed, you will always think well of me, Maurice?” he said in parting; “and if I don’t come up to your expectations, well—­forgive me—­that ’s all.”

His brother wrung his hand.  “You will always come up to my expectations, Frank,” he said.  “Won’t he, Leslie?”

“He will always be our Frank, our good, generous-hearted, noble boy.  God bless him!”

The young fellow bade them a hearty good-bye, and they, knowing what his feelings must be, spared him the prolonging of the strain.  They waited in the carriage, and he waved to them as the train rolled out of the station.

“He seems to be sad at going,” said Mrs. Oakley.

“Poor fellow, the affair of last night has broken him up considerably, but I ’ll make Berry pay for every pang of anxiety that my brother has suffered.”

“Don’t be revengeful, Maurice; you know what brother Frank asked of you.”

“He is gone and will never know what happens, so I may be as revengeful as I wish.”

The detective was waiting on the lawn when Maurice Oakley returned.  They went immediately to the library, Oakley walking with the firm, hard tread of a man who is both exasperated and determined, and the officer gliding along with the cat-like step which is one of the attributes of his profession.

“Well?” was the impatient man’s question as soon as the door closed upon them.

“I have some more information that may or may not be of importance.”

“Out with it; maybe I can tell.”

“First, let me ask if you had any reason to believe that your butler had any resources of his own, say to the amount of three or four hundred dollars?”

“Certainly not.  I pay him thirty dollars a month, and his wife fifteen dollars, and with keeping up his lodges and the way he dresses that girl, he can’t save very much.”