George Dawkins resumed his duties the next morning as usual. Notwithstanding the crime he had committed to screen himself from the consequences of a lighter fault, he felt immeasurably relieved at the thought that he had shaken himself free from the clutches of Duval. His satisfaction was heightened by the disgrace and summary dismissal of Paul, whom he had never liked. He decided to ask the place for a cousin of his own, whose society would be more agreeable to him than that of his late associate. “Good-morning, sir,” he said, as Mr. Danforth entered. “Good-morning,” returned his employer, coldly. “Have you selected any one in Prescott's place, yet, sir?” “Why do you ask?” “Because I have a cousin, Malcolm Harcourt, who would be glad to take it.” “Indeed!” said Mr. Danforth, whose manner somewhat puzzled Dawkins. “I should enjoy having him with me,” continued Dawkins. “Did you like Prescott?” “No, sir,” said Dawkins, promptly, “I didn't want to say so before, but now, since he's turned out so badly, I don't mind saying that I never thought much of him.” “On the contrary,” said Mr. Danforth, “I liked him from the first. Perhaps we are wrong in thinking that he took the money.” “I should think there could be no doubt of it,” said Dawkins, not liking the sympathy and returning good feeling for Paul which his employer manifested. “I don't agree with you,” said Mr. Danforth, coldly. “I have decided to reinstate Paul in his former place.” “Then, if any more money is missing, you will know where it has gone,” said Dawkins, hastily. “I shall.” “Then there is no chance for my cousin?” “I am expecting to have a vacancy.” Dawkins looked up in surprise. “I shall require some one to fill YOUR place,” said Mr. Danforth, significantly. “Sir!” exclaimed Dawkins, in astonishment and dismay. His employer bent a searching glance upon him as he asked, sternly, “where did you obtain the money which you paid away last evening?” “I--don't--understand--you, sir,” gasped Dawkins, who understood only too well. “You met a man at the door of a low tavern in--Street, last evening, to whom you paid one hundred and fifty dollars, precisely the sum which I lost yesterday.” “Who has been slandering me, sir?” asked Dawkins, very pale. “An eye-witness of the meeting, who heard the conversation between you. If you want more satisfactory proof, here it is.” Mr. Danforth took from his pocket-book the torn fragments of the note which Dawkins had given to Duval. “Here is an obligation to pay a certain Duval the sum of one hundred and fifty dollars. It bears your signature. How you could have incurred such a debt to him you best know.” Dawkins maintained a sullen silence. “I suppose you wish me to leave your employment,” he said at length.