“You will remember that Philip did not make the assertion himself.  This was the statement of the thief who robbed him.”

“Yes, of course,” sneered Pitkin.  “He told his story very shrewdly.”

“Mr. Carter,” said Philip, “I can show you or any one else the house in which I was confined in Bleecker Street, and there will be no trouble in obtaining proof of the fire.”

“I dare say there may have been such a fire,” said Mr. Pitkin, “and you may have happened to see it, and decided to weave it into your story.”

“Do you think I stole the money or used it for my own purpose?” asked Philip pointedly.

Mr. Pitkin shrugged his shoulders.

“Young man,” he said, “upon this point I can only say that your story is grossly improbable.  It won’t hold water.”

“Permit me to judge of that, Mr. Pitkin,” said Mr. Carter.  “I wish to ask you one question.”

“To ask me a question!” said Pitkin, surprised.

“Yes; why did you pay Philip in bills to-day?  Why didn’t you give him a check, as usual?”

“Why,” answered Pitkin, hesitating, “I thought it wouldn’t make any difference to you.  I thought you would be able to use it more readily.”

“Did you suppose I would specially need to use money instead of a check this week?  Why break over your usual custom?”

“Really, I didn’t give much thought to the matter,” answered Pitkin, hesitating.  “I acted on a sudden impulse.”

“Your impulse has cost me two hundred dollars.  Do me the favor, when Philip calls next week, to hand him a check.”

“You mean to retain him in your employ after this?” asked Mrs. Pitkin sharply.

“Yes, I do.  Why shouldn’t I?”

“You are very trustful,” observed the lady, tossing her head.  “If this had happened to Lonny here, we should never have heard the last of it.”

“Perhaps not!” responded the old gentleman dryly.  “When a young gentleman is trusted with a letter to mail containing money, and that letter never reaches its destination, it may at least be inferred that he is careless.”

It will be remembered that this was the first knowledge Mrs. Pitkin or her husband had of the transaction referred to.

“What do you mean, Uncle Oliver?” demanded Mr. Pitkin.

Mr. Carter explained.

“This is too much!” said Mrs. Pitkin angrily.

“You mean to accuse my poor boy of opening the letter and stealing the money?”

“If I was as ready to bring accusations as you, Lavinia, I should undoubtedly say that it looked a little suspicious, but I prefer to let the matter rest.”

“I think, Mr. Pitkin, we had better go,” said Mrs. Pitkin, rising with dignity.  “Since Uncle Oliver chooses to charge his own nephew with being a thief——­”

“I beg pardon, Lavinia, I have not done so.”

“You might just as well,” said Lavinia Pitkin, tossing her head.  “Come, Mr. Pitkin; come, my poor Lonny, we will go home.  This is no place for you.”