He made his way at once to the tree which he had used as a safe deposit vault, and with perfect confidence thrust in his hand. But the package which his fingers sought for seemed to have slipped out of reach. He continued his search anxiously, with increasing alarm, but in vain. A terrible fear assailed him. He peered in through the cavity, but neither sight nor touch availed. Gradually the terrible thought was confirmed--the parcel had been stolen! Thirteen thousand five hundred dollars, nearly the entire proceeds of his crime, had vanished--but where? He staggered to a stump close by, and sitting down, buried his face in his hands. What was he to do? He had but twenty-five dollars left. "Who can have taken it?" he asked himself with feverish agitation. He rose and made his way mechanically back to the boat. An hour later he staggered into the little cottage occupied by his sick partner. His hair was disheveled, his manner wild. "What is the matter, Bowman?" asked Sinclair. "We are ruined!" said Bowman in a hollow voice. "The bonds are gone!" "When did you miss them?" asked Sinclair quickly. "To-day. They were safe yesterday. Do you think it was the boy?" "What could he know of the bonds? Did you ever speak to him about them?" "Of course not. What shall I do?" "Inquire whether any one has been seen near the place where you hid them. Do your best to recover them." This advice struck Bowman favorably. He devoted the remainder of the day to the inquiry, but learned nothing. There was no further occasion to remain in St. Victor. He left the inn in the evening, forgetting to pay his reckoning. CHAPTER XXXV. FRED'S REWARD. John Wainwright, the wealthy banker, sat in his office looking over the letters that had come by the morning mail. Some of them he turned over to his confidential clerk to answer. Others, more important, he reserved to reply to with his own hand. "Busy, Wainwright?" asked a gentleman, Arthur Henderson, entering without ceremony. "I always have something in hand, but I have time enough for an old friend." "By the way, have you heard anything of the bonds you lost some time since?" "I know where they are." "You do?" "Yes, they are in Canada." Henderson laughed. "That means that you will never get them back." "I don't know. I have sent a messenger to recover them." "Who is it?" "My office boy." Henderson stared. "I suppose that is a joke." "By no means." "What is the age of your office boy?" "I should judge from his appearance that he is sixteen." "Do you mean to say that you have intrusted a boy of sixteen with so important a commission?" "I do." "Really, Wainwright, I don't like to criticise, but it appears to me that you have taken leave of your senses." The banker laughed good-humoredly. "Perhaps I ought not to be surprised at that." "Then you acknowledge your lack of wisdom?" "By no means. What I have done I would do again." "Couldn't you find a more suitable messenger?"