“He had been in the office before I was there,” said Eben, uneasily.

“While he was there, were any stamps missing?  Was he suspected of taking any stamps or money?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Now, Mr. Graham, what answer did I make to your application?”

“What application?”

“To take you into my employ instead of Herbert.”

“You wanted to keep him,” said the witness, sullenly.

“Precisely.  Having failed, then, in your application, you went home and discovered that some money and stamps had been stolen.”

“Yes, sir.  I was very much surprised—­”

“That will do, sir.  Your discovery was remarkably well-timed.  Herbert having obtained the position you sought, you straightway discovered proof of his dishonesty.”

Eben colored, for the insinuation was plain enough for even him to understand.

“The two things had nothing to do with each other!” he said.

“That may be, but I call the attention of the judge to a very remarkable coincidence.  Have the missing stamps or money been found on the person of the defendant?”

“He hasn’t been searched.”

“I will take it upon me to say that he is ready to submit to an examination,” said Melville.

Herbert said, emphatically, “I am.”

“Oh, it isn’t likely you’d find anything now.” said Eben, with a sneer.

“Why not?”

“He has had plenty of time to put ’em away.”

“I am willing to have my mother’s house searched,” said Herbert, promptly.

“Oh, they ain’t there!” said Eben, significantly.

“Where are they, then?”

Eben’s answer took Herbert and his lawyer, and the judge himself, by surprise.

CHAPTER XII.

Eben’s trump Card.

“I guess they’re—­a part of them—­inside this letter,” he said.

As he spoke he produced a letter, stamped and sealed, but not postmarked.  The letter was addressed: 

“Messrs. Jones & Fitch,

“—–­Chestnut Street,

“Philadelphia.”

“What makes you think this letter contains money or postage stamps, Mr. Graham?” asked George Melville.

“Because I’ve seen an advertisement of Jones & Fitch in one of the weekly papers.  They advertise to send several articles to any address on receipt of seventy-five cents in postage stamps.”

“Very well.  What inference do you draw from this?”

“Don’t you see?” answered Eben, in malicious triumph.  “That’s where part of the stamps went.  This letter was put into the post office by Herbert Carr this morning.”

“That is not true,” said Herbert, quietly.

“Maybe it isn’t, but I guess you’ll find Herbert Carr’s name signed to the letter,” said Eben.

“Have you seen the inside of the letter, Mr. Graham?”