"I don't blame you, gentlemen," said Brewster, bravely. "It's just my luck, that's all. Something told me all along that--that it wouldn't turn out right. I wasn't looking for this kind of end, though. My only fear was that--Jones wouldn't consider me worthy to receive the fortune. It never occurred to me that he might prove to be the--the unworthy one." "I will take you a little farther into our confidence, Brewster," said Grant, slowly. "Mr. Jones notified us at the beginning that he would be governed largely in his decision by our opinion of your conduct. That is why we felt no hesitation in advising you to continue as you were going. While you were off at sea, we had many letters from him, all in that sarcastic vein of his, but in none of them did he offer a word of criticism. He seemed thoroughly satisfied with your methods. In fact, he once said he'd give a million of his own money if it would purchase your ability to spend one-fourth of it." "Well, he can have my experience free of charge. A beggar can't be a chooser, you know," said Brewster, bitterly. His color was gradually coming back. "What do they know about the secretary?" he asked, suddenly, intent and alive. "He was a new one, I understand, who came to Jones less than a year ago. Jones is said to have had implicit faith in him," said Ripley. "And he disappeared at the same time?" "They were last seen together." "Then he has put an end to Jones!" cried Monty, excitedly. "It is as plain as day to me. Don't you see that he exerted some sort of influence over the old man, inducing him to get all this money together on some pretext or other, solely for the purpose of robbing him of the whole amount? Was ever anything more diabolical?" He began pacing the floor like an animal, nervously clasping and unclasping his hands. "We must catch that secretary! I don't believe Jones was dishonest. He has been duped by a clever scoundrel." "The strangest circumstance of all, Mr. Brewster, is that no such person as Golden, the purchaser of your properties, can be found. He is supposed to reside in Omaha, and it is known that he paid nearly three million dollars for the property that now stands in his name. He paid it to Mr. Jones in cash, too, and he paid every cent that the property is worth." "But he must be in existence somewhere," cried Brewster, in perplexity. "How the devil could he pay the money if he doesn't exist?" "I only know that no trace of the man can be found. They know nothing of him in Omaha," said Grant, helplessly. "So it has finally happened," said Brewster, but his excitement had dropped. "Well," he added, throwing himself into a deep chair, "it was always much too strange to be true. Even at the beginning it seemed like a dream, and now--well, now I am just awake, like the little boy after the fairy-tale. I seem like a fool to have taken it so seriously." "There was no other way," protested Ripley, "you were quite right."