"Two hundred dollars." "Whew! You are rich. You say you came near losing it?" "Yes, to-night." "How was that?" Robert detailed his visit to his locker, and his discovery of the canvas man attempting to open it, but he mentioned no names. "Which of the canvas men was it?" asked Mr. Coleman. Robert hesitated. "I don't want to get the man into trouble," he said. "That does you credit, but if we have a thief with us it is important that we should know it, for there are others whom he may try to rob." From what he knew of Carden, Robert felt that the apprehension was very well founded, and he saw that it was his duty to mention the name of the thief. "It was Carden," he answered. "The very man I suspected," said the manager. "The other men are rough, but he looks like a scoundrel. He came to me and begged for work, and I engaged him, though I knew nothing about him. I shall see him in the morning, and discharge him." The manager did not forget. The next morning he summoned Carden, and said, quietly, "Carden, you are no longer in my employ. I will pay you to the end of the week, but I want you to leave now." "What's that for?" growled the canvas man, looking ugly. "It's on account of what happened last night," said the manager. "Has that young fool been blabbing about me?" "I have said nothing about any one." "No, but I know Robert Rudd's been telling tales about me." "He answered my questions, but said he didn't want to get you into trouble." "Of course not!" sneered Carden. "He's a nice boy, he is; the young liar." "You seem to know what he said," observed the manager, eying the man keenly. "I s'pose he said I was tryin' to rob him." "He did, and I believed him." "Then he lied!" said the man, fiercely. "He'll repent the day he told tales about me." "That will do, Carden," said the manager, quietly. "Here's your money." Carden went off swearing. As he was leaving the grounds of the circus he met Robert. "You've been blabbing about me. I'll fix you," he said. Robert made no reply, for he did not care to get into a dispute with such a man. CHAPTER XIV. CHESTNUTWOOD. We must now change the scene to a fine estate in the interior of New York State, near one of the beautiful lakes which give such a charm to the surrounding landscape. The estate was a large one, laid out in the English style, with a fine mansion centrally located and elegantly furnished. Surely the owner of this fine domain was worthy of envy, and ought to have been happy. Let us enter the breakfast room and make acquaintance with him. There he sits in an easy-chair, a white-haired, shrunken old man, his face deeply lined, and wearing a weary expression as if the world afforded him little satisfaction. It was the same old man whom we last saw in the circus at Crampton. He had gone home with his nephew at once, having become weary of travel. It was wise, perhaps; for he was old, and to the old rest is welcome.