After the broker had left the room, Mrs. Estabrook turned to Willis and said: “You are pretty sharp, Willis. You have found out this wretched boy, and now I think we shall get rid of him.” “I flatter myself, mother,” said Willis, complacently, “that I have given the old man some new ideas as to the character of his favorite. I don't think we shall see him in the office again.” As he spoke, his ears caught the sound of ascending footsteps on the stairs without. He was rather puzzled. He conjectured that Grant had been summoned to confront his accuser, but there seemed, from the sound, to be more than two approaching. When the door opened, and the broker gravely ushered in Jim Morrison and Tom Calder, both looking ill at ease, followed by Grant Thornton, he looked amazed and perplexed. “I believe you know these gentlemen,” said Mr. Reynolds, gravely. “I have thought it best to make our present investigation thorough and complete.” “I have met the gentlemen before,” said Ford, uncomfortably. “You also have met them, Grant, have you not?” “Yes, sir.” “Have you had any business transaction with either?” “Yes, sir. Mr. Morrison met me on Wall Street and handed me two bonds, with a request that I would sell them for him, and hand him the money the next morning, at the Fifth Avenue Hotel.” “Were these the same bonds that you sold to Mr. Ford?” “Yes, sir.” “I think the boy is lying, sir,” burst out Ford. “What have you to say to the boy's story, Mr. Morrison?” asked the broker. “He's made a little mistake,” answered Jim Morrison, who by this time was feeling more at his ease. “I didn't give him no bonds.” Willis Ford looked triumphant, and Grant amazed. “How, then, could there be any business between you?” “I may as well own up that I am a gambler,” replied Morrison, with virtuous frankness. “The boy lost the money to me at play, and said he'd meet and pay me at the Fifth Avenue Hotel. I didn't know where he was goin' to get the money, but I expect he must have stolen the bonds, and got it that way.” Considering the damaging nature of the revelation, Grant showed considerable self-command. He did not turn pale, nor did he look guilty and conscience-stricken. “What have you to say to this charge, Grant?” asked the broker. “It is not true, sir.” “What a hardened young villain!” said the housekeeper, in a low, but audible voice. “Mr. Reynolds will hardly believe you,” said Ford, turning upon our hero and speaking in a tone of virtuous indignation. “You see, sir,” he continued, addressing the broker, “that I was right in my conjecture.” “I am not quite satisfied yet,” said Mr. Reynolds. “Grant, call the boy.” Great was the perplexity of Willis Ford and his friends when Grant left the room, and almost immediately reappeared with a small boy in blue uniform. Not one of them recognized him. “Have you ever seen any of these gentlemen before, my boy?” asked the broker. “I've seed 'em all, sir,” answered the boy.