“Yes sir. He has not been seen since yesterday afternoon when he left before the bank was closed for the night. His wife says she thinks he meant to run away, for before going, he came into the room where she was, kissed her and then kissed the child; besides it seems that he took with him some of his clothes.” “Humph! and I had as much confidence in that man—” “As I have now,” came from Mr. Sylvester as the door closed upon the messenger. “If Hopgood has run away, it was from some generous but mistaken idea of sacrificing himself to the safety of another whom he may possibly believe guilty.” “No,” rejoined Mr. Stuyvesant, “for here is a note from him that refutes that supposition. It is addressed to me and runs thus: “DEAR SIR.—I beg your pardon and that of Mr. Sylvester for leaving my duties in this abrupt manner. But I have betrayed my trust and am no longer worthy of confidence. I am a wretched man and find it impossible to face those who have believed in my honesty and discretion. If I can bring the money back, you shall see me again, but if not, be kind to my wife and little one, for the sake of the three years when I served the bank faithfully. “JOHN HOPGOOD.” “I don’t understand it,” cried Mr. Sylvester, “that looks—” “As if he knew where the money was.” “I begin to hope,” breathed Cicely. Her father turned and surveyed her. “This puts a new aspect on matters,” said he. She glanced up beaming. “Oh, will you, do you say, that you think the shadow of this crime has at last found the spot upon which it can rightfully rest?” “It would not be common sense in me to deny that it has most certainly shifted its position.” With a radiant look at Cicely, Paula crossed to Mr. Stuyvesant’s side, and laying her hand on his sleeve, whispered a word or two in his ear. He immediately glanced out of the window at the carriage standing before the door, then looked back at her and nodded with something like a smile. In another moment he stood at the front door. “Be prepared,” cried Paula to Cicely. It was well she spoke, for when in an instant later Mr. Stuyvesant re-entered the parlor with Bertram at his side, the rapidly changing cheek of the gentle girl showed that the surprise, even though thus tempered, was almost too much for her self-possession. Mr. Stuyvesant did not wait for the inevitable embarrassment of the moment to betray itself in words. “Mr. Sylvester,” said he, to the young cashier, “we have just received a piece of news from the bank, that throws unexpected light upon the robbery we were discussing yesterday. Hopgood has absconded, and acknowledges here in writing that he had something to do with the theft!” “Hopgood, the janitor!” The exclamation was directed not to Mr. Stuyvesant but to Mr. Sylvester, towards whom Bertram turned with looks of amazement. “Yes, it is the greatest surprise I ever received,” returned that gentleman.