"About five years since. But I always supposed John Grey's son was lost. You have a strong family look, however." "Do I?" asked Tom. "I don't remember my father." "Where have you been all these years?" "I will tell you, sir," said Tom, "if you have time to hear the story. I didn't know who I was myself till a little while ago." "Proceed. I am busy, but I have time to listen. Take a seat." Tom told the story with which we are already familiar. Mr. Ferguson listened with strong intent. When it was finished, he said: "Young man, have you the confession of this Jacob with you?" Tom drew it from his inner pocket, and submitted it to inspection. He awaited the merchant's verdict. "I recognize Jacob's handwriting," he said, at length. "He was a fellow-clerk of mine. I remember, also, that he disappeared at the same time with you. The story is a strange one, but I am inclined to think it is true. What do you intend to do?" "I want to find my uncle." "I am afraid you will find that difficult. He has left no clew in this city where he once lived. He sold out all his property, and has no interest here." "You think he went to Minnesota?" "Yes; but I cannot tell where." "I will go to Minnesota, then," said our hero. "Is it far off?" "It is several hundred miles away, and a large place when you get there. It costs money to travel. Are you well supplied?" "I've got about fifteen dollars." "Fifteen dollars!" repeated the merchant. "And you expect to undertake such a task on that sum?" "I'd like to have more money; but what's the use of waitin'? I ain't gettin' richer." "Have you any situation? Are you earning any money?" "No, sir." "Then I advise you to find something to do in the city, and postpone your plans of finding your uncle. You are just as likely to hear from him here, while at work, as if you were traveling in search of him," said Mr. Ferguson. "I'd just as lief go to work," said Tom, "if I could find anything to do." Mr. Ferguson reflected a moment. Then he turned to our hero, and said: "I will think about your case. Come round to-morrow morning, about this time." "All right, sir." Tom left the counting-room, and was rather surprised to meet Maurice Walton on the main floor of the store. "What brings you here?" asked Maurice. "Business," said Tom. "Important?" sneered Maurice. "Very important," answered Tom, coolly. "I wish I knew more about him," thought Maurice. "There's some mystery about him. He's impudent enough for half a dozen." Some might have thought the impudence on the other side, but Maurice did not see it in that light. It occurred to Tom that he would call and see the man who advertised for a person "with a small capital to enter a light, genteel business." He found the place after awhile--a small back room, scantily furnished, with a few packages lying on a solitary counter. There was a man of about thirty-five in attendance, who seemed to have nothing particular to do.