Mrs. Harvey Middleton sat in her boudoir, trying to read a novel. But it failed to interest her. She felt uneasy, she scarcely knew why. The evening previous she had been at the Haymarket Theater, and had been struck by a boy’s face. Ten feet from her sat Tony, with his friend, George Spencer. He looked wonderfully like his father as she remembered him, and she was startled. She did not know Tony, but Rugg’s angry warning struck her.

Was he right? Can this be the boy I have so much reason to dread?” she asked herself.

She was thinking of this when the servant entered the room with a card.

C. Barry,” she repeated, “wishes to see Mrs. Middleton on business of the greatest importance.”

“Ask him to come up,” she said, uneasily.

It was the lawyer, as the reader may have suspected.

Mrs. Middleton,” he said, with a bow. “I must apologize for my intrusion.”

“You say your business is important?” said the lady.

It is—of the first importance.”

“Explain yourself, I beg.”

“I appear before you, madam, in behalf of your late husband’s cousin, Anthony Middleton, who is the heir of the estate which you hold in trust.”

It was out now, and Mrs. Middleton was at bay.

There is no such person,” she said. “The boy you refer to is dead.”

“What proof have you of his decease?”

“I have the sworn statement of the man who saw him die.”

“And this man’s name?”

“Is Rudolph Rugg.”

“I thought so. Mr. Rugg swore falsely. He is ready to contradict his former statement.”

“He has been tampered with!” exclaimed Mrs. Middleton, pale with passion.

That may be,” said the lawyer; but he added, significantly: “Not by us.”

“The boy is an impostor,” said Mrs. Middleton, hotly. “I will not surrender the estate.”

“I feel for your disappointment, madam; but I think you are hasty.”

“Who will believe the statement of a common tramp?”

“You relied upon it before, madam. But we have other evidence,” continued the lawyer.

What other evidence?”

“The striking resemblance of my young friend to the family.”

“Was—was he at the Haymarket Theater last evening?” asked the lady.

He was. Did you see him?”

“I saw the boy I suppose you mean. He had a slight resemblance to Mr. Middleton.”

“He is his image.”

“Suppose—suppose this story to be true, what do you offer me?” asked Mrs. Middleton, sullenly.

An income of three hundred pounds from the estate,” said the lawyer. “If the matter c............