"You know this man," said Reuben; "he is an old man with greyish hair and a short grey beard. I tell you I have seen him with you more than once. But you can do as you like about coming. I have told you." "A pretty thing to tell me," cried Savage. "How am I to know what man it is? But we know your talent for inventing stories, Reuben Roy." The taunt was lost upon Reuben, who had turned hurriedly away, only too anxious to leave the place. But ere he had gone many steps, he ran against Mr. Akenside, who was as astonished to see him as Savage had been. "Reuben," he said sternly, "why are you here?" Reuben flushed crimson, and for a moment he hung his head and could not reply. But happily, he remembered that he had no true cause for shame, and he lifted his eyes and looked Mr. Akenside full in the face as he explained the errand on which he had come. "Ah, I see," said the gentleman; "it was right of you to come. Is Mr. Savage going at once to the hospital?" "I think not," said Reuben. "He says he does not know the man." "But how is that? You say you recognised him as one you had seen with Savage." "Mr. Akenside," said Reuben, speaking with difficulty, "you will not believe me, I know, but I have always told you the truth. This man at the hospital is the man I saw in the yard with Mr. Savage on that morning when your goods were taken." Mr. Akenside's face clouded. He looked puzzled, perplexed, embarrassed. "I cannot understand it," he said coldly. "I had better come to the hospital and see the man myself." Reuben moved on and walked home to his lodging, feeling faint and heart-sick. Every one was against him; no one would believe his word. Savage was prosperous and elate; whilst he who had always acted truthfully and honestly towards his master was cast off without a character, to starve! Poor Reuben! His spirit sank utterly within him when he reached his lone attic. He could no longer fight against despair. There seemed no help for him in heaven or on earth. Even God seemed afar off and pitiless. The depression which overcame him and made him cast himself in anguish on his bed was to a great extent the result of physical causes. The poor lad was half starved. For weeks he had been living on insufficient food, whilst tramping about in search of work, or doing such chance jobs as he could find. It was no wonder he broke down now. But the suffering was sore, and Reuben never forgot it. Happily it was the last dark hour before the dawn. It was late in the day ere Mr. Akenside could get to the hospital. When he arrived, the poor old man was near his end. With the approach of death, perfect consciousness had returned to him. At the sight of Mr. Akenside, he became greatly agitated. A guilty conscience made him believe his crime already discovered, and a few questions from Mr. Akenside elicited a full confession of the systematic robbery from the works, which, in confederacy with Savage, he had been carrying on for years.