“Saved!” he exclaimed, triumphantly.  “Now I shall be all right again.”

CHAPTER XV

AN ARTFUL TRAP

Willis Ford was anxious to get away.  He feared that Mrs. Estabrook might go to the bureau and discover the loss before he got out of the house, which would make it awkward for him.  Once out in the street, he breathed more freely.  He had enough with him to pay his only debt, and give him four hundred dollars extra.  It might be supposed he would feel some compunction at robbing his stepmother of her all.  Whatever her faults, she was devoted to him.  But Willis Ford had a hard, selfish nature, and the only thought that troubled him was the fear that he might be found out.  Indeed, the housekeeper’s suspicions would be likely to fall upon him unless they could be turned in some other direction.  Who should it be?  There came to him an evil suggestion which made his face brighten with relief and malicious joy.  The new boy, Grant Thornton, was a member of the household.  He probably had the run of the house.  What more probable than that he should enter Mrs. Estabrook’s chamber and search her bureau?  This was the way Willis reasoned.  He knew that his stepmother hated Grant, and would be very willing to believe anything against him.  He would take care that suspicion should fall in that direction.  He thought of a way to heighten that suspicion.  What it was my readers will learn in due time.

The next day, at half-past eight o’clock in the morning, on his way down Broadway, Willis Ford dropped into the Grand Central Hotel, and walked through the reading room in the rear.  Here sat Jim Morrison and Tom Calder, waiting for him by appointment.

Ford took a chair beside them.

“Good-morning,” he said, cheerfully.

“Have you brought the money?” asked Morrison, anxiously.

“Hush! don’t speak so loud,” said Ford, cautiously.  “We don’t want everybody to know our business.”

“All right,” said Morrison, in a lower voice; “but have you brought it?”

“Yes.”

“You’re a trump!” said Morrison, his face expressing his joy.

“That is to say, I’ve brought what amounts to the same thing.”

“If it’s your note,” said Morrison, with sharp disappointment, “I don’t want it.”

“It isn’t a note.  It’s what will bring the money.”

“What is it, then?”

“It’s government bonds for six hundred dollars.”

“I don’t know anything about bonds,” said Morrison.  “Besides, the amount is more than six hundred dollars.”

“These bonds are worth a hundred and twelve, amounting in all to six hundred and seventy-two dollars.  That’s forty more than I owe you.  I won’t make any account of that, however, as you will have to dispose of them.”

“I may get into trouble,” said Morrison, suspiciously.  “Where did they come from?”