Mrs. Estabrook had a large share of acquisitiveness, but she had also a large measure of caution, which she had inherited from her Scotch ancestry.

"No, Willis," she said, shaking her head, "I can't take any risk.

This money it has taken me years to save. It is the sole dependence I have for my old age, and I can't run the risk of losing it."

"But two thousand dollars will be better than one, mother. Just let me tell you what happened to a customer of ours: He had above five hundred dollars in the savings bank, drawing four per cent interest--only twenty dollars a year. He had a friend in the Stock Exchange who took charge of it, bought stocks judiciously on a margin, then reinvested, and now, after three months, how much do you think it amounts to?"

"How much?" asked the housekeeper, with interest.

"Six thousand five hundred dollars--just thirteen times as much!"

answered Willis, glibly.

This story, by the way, was all a fabrication, intended to influence his stepmother. Mrs. Estabrook never doubted Ford's statement, but her instinctive caution saved her from falling into the trap.

"It looks tempting, Willis," she said, "but I don't dare to take the risk." Ford was deeply disappointed, but did not betray it.

"It is for you to decide," said he, carelessly, then drifted to other subjects.

Ten minutes later he pressed his hand upon his breast, while his features worked convulsively. "I believe I am sick," he said.

"What can I do for you, my dear son?" asked the housekeeper, in alarm.

"If you have a gla.s.s of brandy!" gasped Willis.

"I will go downstairs and get some," she said, hurriedly.

No sooner had she left the room than Willis sprang to his feet, locked the door, then went to the bureau, unlocked the upper drawer--he had a key in his pocket which fitted the lock and, thrusting in his hand, drew out a long envelope containing one five-hundred-dollar government bond and five bonds of one hundred dollars each, which he thrust into his side pocket. Then, closing the drawer, he unlocked the door of the room, and when his step-mother returned he threw himself back in his chair, groaning.

He took the gla.s.s of brandy the housekeeper brought him, and, after a few minutes, professing himself much better, left the house.

"Saved!" he exclaimed, triumphantly. "Now I shall be all right again."

CHAPTER XV -- AN ARTFUL TRAP

Willis Ford was anxious to get away. He feared that Mrs. Estabrook might go to the bureau and discover the loss before he got out of the house, which would make it awkward for him. Once out in the street, he breathed more freely. He had enough with him to pay his only debt, and give him four hundred dollars extra. It might be supposed he would feel some compunction at robbing his stepmother of her all. Whatever her faults, she was devoted to him. But Willis Ford had a hard, selfish nature, and the only thought that troubled him was the fear that he might be found out. Indeed, the housekeeper's suspicions would be likely to fall upon him unless they could be turned in some other direction. Who should it be?

There came to him an evil suggestion which made his face brighten with relief and malicious joy. The new boy, Grant Thornton, was a member of the household. He probably had the run of the house. What more probable than that he should enter Mrs. Estabrook's chamber and search her bureau? This was the way Willis reasoned. He knew that his stepmother hated Grant, and would be very willing to believe anything against him. He would take care that suspicion should fall in that direction. He thought of a way to heighten that suspicion.

What it was my readers will learn in due time.

The next day, at half-past eight o'clock in the morning, on his way down Broadway, Willis Ford dropped into the Grand Central Hotel, and walked through the reading room in the rear. Here sat Jim Morrison and Tom Calder, waiting for him by appointment.

Ford took a chair beside them.

"Good-morning," he said, cheerfully.

"Have you brought the money?" asked Morrison, anxiously.

"Hush! don't speak so loud," said Ford, cautiously. "We don't want everybody to know our business."

"All right," said Morrison, in a lower voice; "but have you brought it?"

"Yes."

"You're a trump!" said Morrison, his face expressing his joy.

"That is to say, I've brought what amounts to the same thing."

"If it's your note," said Morrison, with sharp disappointment, "I don't want it."

"It isn't a note. It's what will bring the money."

"What is it, then?"

"It's government bonds for six hundred dollars."

"I don't know anything about bonds," said Morrison. "Besides, the amount is more than six hundred dollars."

"These bonds are worth a hundred and twelve, amounting in all to six hundred and seventy-two dollars. That's forty more than I owe you. I won't make any account of that, however, as you will have to dispose of them."

"I may get into trouble," said Morrison, suspiciously. "Where did they come from?"

"That does not concern you," said Ford, haughtily. "Don't I give them to you?"

"But where did you get them?"

"That is my business. If you don't want them, say the word, and I'll take them back."

"And when will you pay the money?"

"I don't know," answered Ford, curtly.

"Maybe he'll sell 'em for us himself," suggested Tom Calder.

"Good, Tom! Why can't you sell 'em and give me the money? Then you can pay the exact sum and save the forty dollars."

"I don't choose to do so," said Ford. "It seems to me you are treating me in a very strange manner. I offer you more than I owe you, and you make no end of objections to receiving it."

"I am afraid I'll get into trouble if I offer the bonds for sale,"

said Morrison, doggedly. "I don't know anybody in the business except you."

"Yes, you do," said Ford, a bright idea occurring to him.

"Who?"

"You know the boy in our office."

"Grant Thornton?" said Tom.