"Mr. Walton," said Novarro, "I am a man of few words, and will come to the point. As the guardian of this boy, and the friend of his father's friend, I have come to demand from you the fortune of which you deprived him." "I don't know what you are talking about," said the merchant, trying to speak firmly. "I beg your pardon, but you do. I call for the money you obtained for the securities which you took from the dead body of Dr. Baker, who died in your house of heart disease--a sum which you appropriated to your own use, leaving your sister and your sister's son poor and dependent." "You must be crazy, sir. Where is the proof of your strange and unfounded charge?" "I can produce the broker who sold these securities for you in the year 18--." "It is easy to say this. May I know the name of this broker?" asked the merchant, making a feeble attempt to deny the charge. "His name is John Goldsmith, and his office is No. ---- Wall street," answered Novarro, promptly. Nicholas Walton leaned back in his chair and seemed ready to faint, but uttered no word. "Well, sir, your answer?" "Can't we--compromise--this--thing?" asked Walton, feebly. "No, sir; we will promise not to expose you, but it will be only upon condition that you pay principal and interest. The only favor we will extend is, that we will not demand compound interest." "But it will ruin me! I cannot take so large a sum from my business." "That I can understand. On behalf of my young ward and his mother, I will agree to accept half cash, and half in notes maturing at different dates, secured by your stock in trade. Do you consent, or shall we bring suit?" "Can't you throw off the interest? That boy and his mother will be amply provided for by the principal." "If you had received your nephew differently when he applied for help just now, we might have consented. Now it is out of the question." Nicholas Walton was forced to make an unconditional surrender, and the terms were agreed to upon the spot. "Ben," said Mr. Novarro, as they left the office, "I congratulate you. You are now rich." "Thanks to you kind management, Mr. Novarro." It is said that listeners never hear any good of themselves. Clarence was in a terrible panic when he heard the conference between his father and the Cuban. That his despised cousin Ben should become suddenly rich was a bitter pill to swallow. He sneaked out of the store, perturbed in mind. "Now, Ben, I suppose you will want to carry the news to your mother," said the Cuban. "That is what I was about to ask, Mr. Novarro." "We will take the next train for Sunderland, preparing your mother by a telegram."