"Well?"

"The question is, did Browning fulfill his trust, or keep the money himself?"

"That would come out, wouldn't it? The family would make inquiries."

"They did not know that the dying man had money. He kept it to himself, for he wanted to go home and give them an agreeable surprise.

Butler knew this, and, I think, he took advantage of it."

"That was contemptible. But can't it be ascertained? Is it known where the family lives? What is the name?"

"Walton."

"Walton!" repeated Warner Powell, in surprise.

"Yes; do you know any family of that name?"

"I know a boy in Chicago named Luke Walton. He is in the employ of my aunt. A part of his time he spends in selling papers."

"Mr. Browning told me that Walton only left a daughter, and that the family had gone to the Eastern States."

"Would he be likely to tell you the truth--supposing he had really kept the money?"

"Perhaps not. What more can you tell me about this boy?"

Powell's face lighted up.

"I remember now, he told me that his father died in California."

"Is it possible?" said Jack King, excited. "I begin to think I am on the right track. I begin to think, too, that I can tell where Tom Butler got his first start."

"And now he poses as a philanthropist?"

"Yes."

"And is nominated for mayor?"

"Yes, also."

"How are your relations with him?"

"They should be friendly, for he and I were comrades in earlier days, and once I lent him money when he needed it, but he has been puffed up by his prosperity, and takes very little notice of me. He had to do something for me when I first came to Milwaukee, but it was because he was afraid not to."

Meanwhile Warner Powell was searching his memory. Where and how had he become familiar with the name of Thomas Browning? At last it came to him.

"Eureka!" he exclaimed, in excitement.

"What does that mean? I don't understand French."

Warner smiled.

"It isn't French," he said; "but Greek, all the Greek I know. It means 'I have discovered'--the mystery of your old acquaintance."

"Explain, please!" said Jack King, his interest be coming intense.

"I have a friend in Chicago--Stephen Webb, a nephew of your philanthropist--who has been commissioned by his uncle to find out all he can about this newsboy, Luke Walton. He was speculating with me why his uncle should be so interested in an obscure boy."

"Had his uncle told him nothing?"

"No, except that he dropped a hint about knowing Luke's father."

"This Luke and his family are poor, you say?"

"Yes, you can judge that from his employment. He is an honest, manly boy, however, and I have taken a fancy to him. I hope it will turn out as you say. But nothing can be proved. This Browning will probably deny that he received money in trust from the dead father."

Jack King's countenance fell.

"When you go back to Chicago talk with the boy, and find out whether the family have any evidence that will support their claim. Then send the boy on to me, and we will see what can be done."

"I accept the suggestion with pleasure. But I will offer an amendment.

Let us write the boy to come on at once, and have a joint consultation in his interest."

CHAPTER x.x.xVIII

FELICIE PROVES TROUBLESOME

We must return to Chicago for a short time before recording the incidents of Luke's visit to Milwaukee.

Though Harold had lost nearly half of his money through being compelled to divide with Felicie, he was, upon the whole, well satisfied with the way in which he had escaped from suspicion. He had his gold watch, and, as far as he knew, the story which he had told about it had not been doubted. But something happened that annoyed and alarmed him.

One day, when there was no one else in the house, except the servants, Felicie intercepted him as he was going out.

"I want a word with you, Master Harold," she said.

"I am in a hurry, Felicie," replied Harold, who had conceived a dislike for the French maid.

"Still, I think you can spare a few minutes," went on Felicie, smiling in an unpleasant manner.

"Well, be quick about it," said Harold, impatiently.

"I have a sister who is very sick. She is a widow with two children, and her means are very small."

"Goodness, Felicie! What is all this to me? Of course, I'm sorry for her, but I don't know her."

"She looks to me to help her," continued Felicie.