When James Congreve left the theater, he was at first inclined to stop at Delmonico’s on the way uptown, and indulge in a little refreshment; but he felt somewhat fatigued with his day’s travel, and, after a moment’s indecision, concluded instead to return at once to his boarding place. “He lives in a nice house,” said the clerk to himself. “Let me notice the number. I may find it desirable to know where to find him.” To anticipate matters a little, word came to New York in the afternoon of the next day that two bonds, the numbers of which were given, had been stolen from Colonel Ross, and search was made for the young man who was suspected of having negotiated them. The clerk, who, previous to returning the bonds to Congreve, had taken down the numbers, at once identified them as the ones referred to, and gave information to the police. The result was that just as Congreve was sitting down to supper on the evening of the second day, he was informed that a man wished to see him at the door. On answering the call, he saw before him a small man, of quiet manner, dressed in a sober suit of black. “You name is Congreve, I believe?” he said, politely, “Yes, sir,” answered James, in a hesitating tone. “Then I must trouble you to go with me.” “I have just sat down to supper.” “I am really sorry to disturb you, but you are charged with selling two stolen bonds in Wall Street yesterday.” “There is some mistake,” said Congreve, hurriedly. “Colonel Ross sent me the bonds by his son, with a request that I would sell them for him.” “Glad to hear it,” said the detective, laconically. “Then you will be able to clear yourself. Meanwhile, you must come with me.” And James Congreve spent the night in a boarding house by no means fashionable. CHAPTER XL — PREPARING TO PROSECUTE “I am going to the bottom of this affair,” said Colonel Ross, as he sipped his second cup of coffee at the breakfast table the next morning. “The Gilbert boy must suffer the consequences of his crime.” “Will he be sent to prison, pa?” inquired Philip. “It is a State’s prison offense, my son,” answered his father. Was it on Harry’s account that Philip suddenly turned pale and looked nervous? I cannot credit him with a sufficient amount of feeling for another. He could not help recalling the fact that it was he and not Harry who had been guilty of this State’s prison offense. “However, the thing can’t possibly be traced to me,” he reflected, somewhat more comfortable in mind. “I don’t know as I care whether Harry Gilbert goes to prison or not. He is very proud and stuck-up, and it will take down his pride.” “I commend your decision,” said Mrs. Ross, to her husband. “In my opinion, mercy would be misplaced in such a case as this. The boy who is degraded enough to steal is likely to continue in his criminal course, and the sooner he is punished the better.” There was something in this remark, also, that made Philip wince.