"Hello! what's that?" Tom's eyes fastened on the negative with astonishment. His face assumed an expression of intense interest, for moment by moment the image grew stronger and stronger. With the utmost care he completed the process, and then, opening the dark-room door, flew down the stairs two steps at a time, tore into his bedroom, grabbed Will's letter from the desk, and read the concluding paragraph as follows: "My heart aches for Frank and his mother and Alice. I don't believe one word of the charge against him; but, like all the rest of his friends, am powerless to help him. The trial comes off on the 18th." "The 18th, and to-day is the 17th! It's a close call, but it's got to be done, and I'll do it," cried Tom, in a whirl of excitement. He hurried to the telephone in the library, called up his father's office in the lower part of the city, and while waiting for the connection looked at his watch. It was quarter of three o'clock. Then the customary "Hello!" came over the wire. "Please tell Mr. Wetherby to come to the 'phone." "Who are you?" "His son Tom; I want to speak to father." Presently Mr. Wetherby called back, "Well, Tom, what is it? Hurry up; I'm busy!" "Father," shouted Tom, his voice betraying the excitement he was under. "I must go to Whitonville to-night. I think I've got something which will help Will Vaughan's friend who is accused of robbing the bank." "My son, hadn't you better wait until I get home and talk the matter over with you?" "Can't wait, father; to-day is the 17th; Wentworth's trial takes place to-morrow. The only train which would get me there by noon to-morrow leaves at four o'clock this afternoon--about an hour from now." Buzz-z-z went the 'phone. Mr. Wetherby was probably thinking about it. He knew Tom was a pretty level headed young man, and felt convinced that his son had something of material importance to the case. The break seemed an age to Tom, and he called over the 'phone impatiently, "Well, father, can I go?" "Yes, Tom. I think I can rely on your judgment. If you haven't money enough for the journey, explain matters to your mother, who will supply you. Be sure and write me full particulars, and come home as soon as practical." When the four-o'clock express rolled out of the Grand Central Depot that afternoon, Tom Wetherby was aboard, and in his grip was the plate that came out of holder No. 7, and a bromide print therefrom. * * * * * The court-room at Whitonville was crowded to suffocation. Never before had such widespread interest been manifested in a criminal case in that town. Frank Wentworth was known and liked by everybody, and the astonishment and grief at his predicament were universal. Hendrix testified to quitting the bank about five o'clock in the afternoon, leaving the president and Wentworth still there. Mr. Vaughan testified to his departure a few minutes after the cashier, and that Wentworth was still at his desk.