When Benjamin Bolton left the house of Stephen Ray with a hundred dollars in his pocket, it was with the clearly-defined purpose in his mind to find the boy who had been so grossly wronged, and force the present holder of the Ray estate to make restitution. But he was not yet in a position to move in the matter. Only a few hours previous he had been nearly penniless. Even now, though he was provided with a sum of money that made him feel comparatively rich, he knew that it would not last very long. Clearly he must obtain employment. He provided himself with a respectable suit of clothing, and took the next train for New York. He had been in the metropolis two or three times in the course of his life, but he knew no one there. He must push his own way without help. While other paths might be open to him, for he was a man of education and worldly experience, he felt that he should like to get back into his own profession. He flattered himself that if properly started he could make himself valuable to an established attorney in the way of hunting up cases, and taking part in any description of legal work that might be intrusted to him. But how could he, a man altogether unknown, recommend himself to any lawyer whose standing and business would make a connection with him desirable? Perhaps in any other business there would be less difficulty in making a start. But Mr. Bolton was resolute and determined, and fortune favored him. Within thirty miles of the city a stout gentleman of perhaps fifty entered the car and sat down beside him. He looked like a well-to-do business man, prosperous and free from care, but for the anxious expression on his face. He appeared like a man in trouble who stood in need of advice. The train had gone several miles before he made up his mind to confide in the quiet-looking man who sat beside him. He had already taken stock of Bolton in several furtive glances before he decided to speak of the matter that troubled him. "There is something on his mind," thought Bolton. "He looks as if he wished to speak to some one." He addressed a casual remark to his companion, who instantly responded. "I don't like to trouble you," he said, "but I am somewhat perplexed." "My dear sir, if in any way I can help you I shall be glad to do so," answered Bolton. "I am a lawyer--" "Are you?" said the other eagerly. "I want to meet a good, honest, and _smart_ lawyer, who will undertake a case for me." Bolton pricked up his ears. This seemed to be a providential opportunity of which he resolved to avail himself. "I should not like to praise myself," he said modestly, "but I think you would find me faithful to your interests." "No doubt of it, sir. Are you a New York lawyer?" "I am about to connect myself with a law firm in the city," answered Bolton, heartily hoping that this statement might prove accurate. "Then you will be able to help me."