"But, say, honest, I--I didn't mean to set the shebang afire--not on my life, I didn't."

"You were smoking, and fell asleep."

"Thet's the honest truth o' the matter, my young friend. I'm a tramp, an' down on my luck, but I ain't no barn burner, not me!"

"Well, you had better come with me," said Nat, decidedly.

"What are yer goin' to do?"

"I want a witness to what you just said."

"Goin' to have me--me locked up?"

"No, it's not worth it. I only want to prove to my uncle that I am not guilty, that's all."

The tramp followed Nat down into the street and then over to John Garwell's office.

"Why, what does this mean, Nat?" demanded his employer, in astonishment, for visits from tramps were unusual.

Our hero lost no time in telling his story.

"I want my uncle Abner to know that I am innocent, that's all," he continued. "It won't do any good to hold this chap, for the barn wasn't hurt much, anyway."

"I'll settle this," said Mr. Garwell, and called in a stenographer, who took down what the tramp had to say. Then the confession was typewritten, and Tom Nolan signed it, and John Garwell added his signature as a witness.

"There, Nat, that is all right now," said the real estate broker. "You can send that to your uncle when you please, and we can keep a copy."

"This is all I want," said our hero to the tramp. "You may go now."

"Don't want no more o' me?" asked Tom Nolan.

"Nothing whatever."

"Say, ain't this confession good fer a quarter?"

"I'll give you a quarter if you'll promise not to spend it for drink."

"I'll promise," said the tramp, and Nat handed him twenty-five cents.

Tom Nolan thanked him, and shuffled off; and that was the last our hero saw or heard of him.

"I'm sorry I lost so much time," said Nat to his employer. "But I wanted to square myself with Uncle Abner if I could."

"I don't blame you, Nat. I have no doubt it is a great worry off your mind."

"It is. Now, Uncle Abner will know I told him the plain truth."

That night Nat wrote Abner Balberry a long letter, telling of his meeting with the tramp. He enclosed the signed confession, and he had the letter registered, so that it might not get lost in the mails. A few days later came a reply, in which Nat's uncle said he remembered seeing the tramp around on the day of the fire, and stating that he was very sorry that he had ever thought his nephew guilty.

Nat's work frequently took him out of town, and on one occasion he had to go to Albany, a trip which he enjoyed thoroughly, as it gave him a chance to visit the State Capitol.

"Nat," said John Garwell one day, "didn't you once tell me, that your father and grandfather had come from New York and Brooklyn?"

"Yes, sir."

"Was your grandfather ever interested in some property around Central Park?"

"I don't know but what he was. But he got rid of his belongings, so I was told, when he moved away."

"Did you ever see any of the papers?"

"Yes, sir, some years ago. They were in a trunk up in my uncle Abner's garret."

"What was your grandfather's full name?"

"Chester Stout Nason. His mother was a Stout."

"And your father's full name?"

"William Henry Nason."

"Did he have any brothers?"

"No, sir--only a sister, who was Uncle Abner's first wife."

"I see. Are those papers still in the trunk you just mentioned?"

"They ought to be. They were packed away with some old account books--bad debts, I once heard father call them. Father had an idea he could collect some of the debts some day. But I guess they are outlawed."

"More than likely. I'd like to see those papers regarding that land near Central Park."

"Why, Mr. Garwell? Do you think there is anything in it for me?" cried our hero, quickly.

"I'm not prepared to say that until I see the papers. I am looking up six parcels of land, which a certain company want for the purpose of putting up a big hotel. Some of the old deeds mention a Chester S. Nason as holding a half-interest in one of the plots of ground--the interest being a.s.signed to him in payment of a claim he had on one Maurice LeRoy.

Did you ever hear of such a man?"

"No, sir."

"Well, supposing you get those papers for me, and let me examine them."

"Shall I send to Uncle Abner for them?"

"I think it might be better for you to go home and sort out the papers yourself. I'll explain just what I am after. Besides, if the papers are valuable, you had better not trust them to the mails. I'll pay your railroad fares."

"All right, I'll go home for them whenever you say, Mr. Garwell. I hope the papers do prove valuable," and Nat smiled broadly.

"Don't raise false hopes, Nat. There may be nothing in it. But there is nothing like being sure."

"Is the tract of land valuable?"