“Hello! how did you get in here?” he exclaimed.

“Was let in,” was my mild reply, not caring to pick a quarrel with him.

“Was, eh?  And what for, I’d like to know?”

“That’s your father’s business, Duncan.”

“Don’t Duncan me any more, Roger Strong.  What’s my father’s business?”

“What I came for.  He sent for me.”

“Oh, he did.  Reckon he’s going to square accounts with you.”

“I don’t know what accounts he’s going to square,” I went on in curiosity.

“Didn’t you as much as try to intimate he was lying—­ down in Judge Penfold’s court this afternoon?”

“I only told what I knew to be the truth,” I replied calmly.

“The truth.  Humph!  I believe you took the widow’s money yourself.”

“Take care what you’re saying,” I replied angrily.  “I don’t propose to stand any such talk from you.”

Duncan grew speechless.  “Why, you—­ you—­” he began.

“Hold up now before you say something that you’ll be sorry for.  This is your house, but you have no right to insult me in it.”

“Quite right, Strong, quite right.”  The library door had opened, and Mr. Woodward stood upon the threshold, gazing sharply at his son.  “Strong is here upon my invitation, Duncan; you ought to treat him with more politeness,” he added.

If Duncan was amazed at this speech, so was I. The merchant taking my part?  What did it mean?

“Why, I—­ I—­” began Duncan, but he could really get no further.

“No explanation is necessary,” interrupted his father, coolly.

“Strong, please step in, will you?”

“Yes, sir,” and I suited the action to the word.

As I did so Duncan passed on to the front door.

“I’ll get even with you yet, you cad!” he muttered under his breath; but I paid no attention to his words.  I had “bigger fish to fry.”

Once inside of Mr. Woodward’s library, the merchant closed the door behind me and then invited me to take a seat beside his desk, at the same time throwing himself back in his easy chair.

“I suppose you thought it rather singular that I should send for you,” he said by way of an opening.

“Yes, sir, I did,” was all I could reply.

“I thought as much.  It was only an impulse of mine, sir, only an impulse.  I wished to see if we cannot arrange this—­ this little difficulty without publicity.  I would rather lose a good deal, yes, sir, a good deal, than have my name dragged into court.”

“All I ask is for justice,” I replied calmly.  “I am under arrest for a crime of which I am innocent.  On the other hand, you are trying to shield a man I know is guilty.”

I expected a storm of indignation from Mr. Woodward because of the last remark.  Yet he showed no sign of resentment.

“Don’t you think you might be mistaken in your identification of Mr. Stumpy?” he replied, and I noticed that again he nearly stumbled in pronouncing the tramp’s name.