The man arose and began to pace the floor. He could not go back and tell the truth. What other thing could he do? It was useless to inform the police. That would simply precipitate the storm. It would be going by another path the same way which he had convinced himself was so effectually blocked. Nor did he dare to remain silent. The loss would soon be discovered, and then his silence would convict him, while flight was open confession of the crime. Carper Harris had one brother living in New York,--a sort of black sheep of the family, who had left home when a child to hazard his fortunes with the cattle exporters. The family had attempted to control him, but without avail. He had shifted around the stock-yards in Baltimore, and had gone finally to New York, and was now a commission merchant, with an office in Jersey City. The relation between this man and the family had been somewhat strained, but now, in the face of this dreaded disaster, Harris felt that he was the only one to appeal to--not that he hoped that his brother could render him any assistance, but because he must consult with some one, and this man was after all the only human being whom he could trust. He hastily scribbled a note, and, calling a messenger, sent it to his brother's hotel. Then he threw himself down on the bed and covered his face with his hands. What diabolical patience and cunning Fate sometimes exhibits! All the good fortune which had come to young Harris seemed to have been only for the purpose of smoothing the way into this trap. II. What is wrong here, Carper?" said William Harris, as he shut the door behind him. "I expected to find a corpse from the tone of your note. What's up?" The commission merchant was a short heavy young man with a big square jaw and keen gray eyes. His face indicated bull-dog tenacity and unlimited courage of the sterner sort. Carper Harris arose when his brother entered. He was as white as the dead. "William," he said, "I wish I were a corpse!" "Ho! ho!" cried the cattle-man, dropping into a chair. "There is a big smash-up on the track, that is evident. Which is gone, your girl or your job?" "Brother," continued Carper Harris, "I am in a more horrible position than you can imagine. I don't know whether you will believe me or not, but if you don't, no one will." "You may be a fool, Carper," answered the commission merchant, closing his hands, on the arms of his chair, "but you are not a liar. Go on, tell me the whole thing."