Just then Frank heard some one inquiring for him in the outer office. This seemed to be a day for strangers. Two men whom he had never seen before entered his room. One free and easy of manner at once addressed Frank. “Is your name Newton?” “Yes,” responded Frank, none too well pleased at the man’s familiarity. “Believe you telegraphed to the reformatory at Linwood some time since about a boy named Welmore--Richard Markham Welmore?” Frank started. He was greatly taken aback. “Did I?” he said simply. “You did,” asserted the stranger promptly. “You’ve given us some trouble running you down. Welmore, under the name of Markham, is now in your employ.” “What of it?” inquired Frank, with dire forebodings of trouble. “We want him, that’s all, my dear young friend,” broke in the other man. “Dangerous character, escaped criminal. This is an officer of the institution.” “What is your interest in this matter, may I ask?” demanded Frank. “Distant relative, guardian, best friend. Sad case. Left on my hands, cared for him, spent my means educating him. Repaid kindness by robbing me.” “That is a falsehood!” Like a thunder clap the words sounded out. The waiting stranger in the next room spoke them. As he appeared in the open doorway, the man whose veracity he challenged looked as though confronted by an accusing nemesis. “Welmore!” he almost screamed. He turned white as a sheet and cowered back. “Yes, Jasper Lane--false friend, perjurer and thief,” flashed out the other. “You cared for Dick Welmore? You expended your means on him? Where is the two thousand dollars I left you for his education?” “Keep him off--don’t let him touch me,” pleaded the other man. “Pah!” coarsely uttered the reformatory man, giving Lane a disgusted push to one side. “Mister,” he continued, addressing Lane’s accuser, “if there’s been crooked business here, we didn’t know it.” “There has been,” affirmed the other. “My boy wrote me about it. I have hastened from the Philippines to right his wrongs. This creature, Lane, accused him falsely, had him imprisoned. I secured the proofs of it before I came here to find my son Dick Welmore.” “Markham’s father!” murmured Frank. “Well,” said the officer, “your boy will have to go with me, but if you can prove what you say, the court will not long hold him.” “You, Jasper Lane,” spoke Mr. Welmore sternly, “you do not leave my side till you have righted my boy.” “I’ll do it, I’ll do it! Don’t expose me, don’t ruin my reputation!” whined Jasper Lane. “There is Markham--Dick--now,” announced Frank, as a cheery whistle sounded outside. The next moment Markham entered the room, grew pale as he first noticed Lane, saw his father, and flew to his parent’s arms with a wild cry of delight. “Father,” he said, leading Mr. Welmore towards Frank, “this is Frank Newton, the best friend I ever had in the world.” * * * * * “Seen your sign outside--Boy Wanted--I need a job.”