"Well, we couldn't find him now. If he kept hidden then, when there was a hue and cry out for him, what chance would there be of finding him after seventeen years? Oh, no! Allen can't be found. And, even if he could, I doubt but the thing is outlawed. I don't know that the authorities would take it up. And I am pretty sure the creditors of the old firm would not." "That is not what I mean," said Helen, softly. "But suppose we accuse this bookkeeper--_and he is not guilty, either_?" "Well! Is that any great odds? Nobody knows where he is----" "But suppose he should reappear," persisted Helen. "Suppose somebody who loved him--a daughter, perhaps, as I am the daughter of Prince Morrell--with just as great a desire to clear her father's name as I have to clear mine---- Suppose such a person should appear determined to prove Mr. Chesterton not guilty, too?" "Ha, but we've beat 'em to it--don't you see?" demanded Mr. Grimes, heartlessly. "Oh, sir! I could not take such an apparent victory at such a cost!" cried Helen, wiping her eyes again. "You say you _believe_ Allen Chesterton was guilty instead of father. But you put forward no evidence--no more than the mere suspicion that cursed poor dad. No, no, sir! To claim new evidence, but to show no new evidence, is not enough. I must find out for sure just who stole that money. That is what dad himself said would be the only way in which his name could be cleared." "Nonsense, girl!" ejaculated Fenwick Grimes, scowling again. "I am sorry to go against both your wishes and Uncle Starkweather's," said Helen, slowly. "But I want the truth! I can't be satisfied with anything but the truth about this whole unfortunate business. "It made poor dad very unhappy when he was dying. It troubled my poor mother--so _he_ said--all her life out there in Montana. I want to know where the money went--who got it--all about it. Then I can prove to people that it was not _my_ father who committed the crime." "This is a very quixotic thing you have undertaken, my girl," remarked Mr. Grimes, with a sudden change in his manner. "I hope not. I hope I shall learn the truth." "How?" He shot the question at her as from a gun. His face had grown very grim and his sly little eyes gleamed threateningly. More than ever did Helen dislike and fear this man. The avaricious light in his eyes as he noted the money she carried on the train, had first warned her against him. Now, when she knew so much more about him, and how he was immediately connected with her father's old trouble, Helen feared him all the more. Because of his love of money alone, she could not trust him. And he had suggested something which was, upon the face of it, dishonest and unfair. She rose from her seat and shook her head slowly. "I do not know how," Helen said, sadly. "But I hope something may turn up to help me. I understand that you have never known anything about Allen Chesterton since he ran away?"