“Yes, sir.”

“Would you think it good for him, as he emerged from youth to manhood, to visit refectories and billiard saloons?”

“No, sir, I would do all in my power to prevent it.”

“Why?”

“There’s danger in them, sir.”

“And, knowing this, you went into the way of danger, and have fallen!”

Martin dropped his eyes to the floor in confusion.

“Bland is a stool-pigeon and you were betrayed.”

“What am I to do?” asked the troubled young man.  “I am in debt to him.”

“He will be here to-morrow.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I will have a policeman ready to receive him.”

“O, no, no, Sir.  Pray don’t do that!” answered Martin, with a distressed look.

“Why not?” demanded Mr. Phillips.

“It will ruin me.”

“How?”

“Bland will denounce me.”

“Let him.”

“I shall be exposed to the policeman.”

“An evil, but a mild one, compared with that to which you were rushing in order to disentangle yourself.  I must have my way, sir.  This matter has assumed a serious aspect.  You are in my power, and must submit.”

On the next day, punctual to the hour, Bland called.

“This is your man,” said Mr. Phillips to his clerk.  “Ask him into the counting-room.”  Bland, thus invited, walked back.  As he entered, Mr. Phillips said,—­

“My clerk owes you a hundred and fifty dollars, I understand.”

“Yes, sir;” and the villain bowed.

“Make him out a receipt,” said Mr. Phillips.

“When I receive the money,” was coldly and resolutely answered.  Martin glanced sideways at the face of Bland, and the sudden change in its expression chilled him.  The mild, pleasant, virtuous aspect he could so well assume was gone, and he looked more like a fiend than a man.  In pictures he had seen eyes such as now gleamed on Mr. Phillips, but never in a living face before.

The officer, who had been sitting with a newspaper in his hand, now gave his paper a quick rattle as he threw it aside, and, coming forward, stood beside Mr. Phillips, and looked steadily at the face of Bland, over which passed another change:  it was less assured, but not less malignant.

Mr. Phillips took out his pocket-book, and, laying a twenty-dollar bill on the desk by which they were standing, said,—­

“Take this and sign a receipt.”

“No, sir!” was given with determined emphasis.  “I am not to be robbed in this way!”

“Ned,” the officer now spoke, “take my advice, and sign a receipt.”

“It’s a cursed swindle!” exclaimed the baffled villain.

“We will dispense with hard names, sir!” The officer addressed him sternly.  “Either take the money, or go.  This is not a meeting for parley.  I understand you and your operations.”

A few moments Bland stood, with an irresolute air; then, clutching desperately at a pen, he dashed off a receipt, and was reaching for the money, when Mr. Phillips drew it back, saying,—­