One cold, dreary, windy evening, the tall, dark, bearded man left the office on the East side, where he was known as “Scar-faced Charlie,” and turned his face in the direction of the fine mansion in the upper part of the city, where he was known to the servants, the tradespeople, and a few of the neighbors as “Samuel Dexter,” a relative of the kindly old gentleman who owned the house. Passing through the broad gate and along the winding road, he emerged into an open space in front of the mansion, and saw to his surprise that lights were gleaming through the windows of the elder Mr. Dexter’s library, a room which was seldom opened during the owner’s absence.

The bearded man had been away for two or three days, and, thinking that the servants had taken advantage of his absence, to make use of an apartment into which he seldom penetrated himself, he quietly let himself in at the front door, and stepping across the hall, threw open the door of his uncle’s 311study, intending to administer a severe rebuke to whomever he might find within.

But the angry words died away unuttered on his lips, and he started back with a look of amazement and chagrin, as Mr. Dexter, Senior, rose from an easy chair by the fire and came forward to greet him.

“Why, my dear uncle, I had no idea that you were in this country,” exclaimed the new comer, as he recovered himself sufficiently to grasp the hand that was extended to him, and assume something that resembled at least a pleased expression of countenance.

“I only arrived this morning,” replied the other, “and so I thought I would treat you to a pleasant surprise.”

That his coming had proved a surprise, if not an altogether pleasant one, was quite apparent to the elder Mr. Dexter, who had narrowly watched his nephew’s face and noted the quick change of expression that passed across it as he entered the room. Since that evening in Paris, when he had addressed to him a letter of inquiry, several things had occurred to convince the old gentleman that his kinsman was not treating him in a straightforward manner. He had replied to the letter, it is true, but in such a way as to make it 312apparent that he either had not troubled himself to fulfill his uncle’s request, or else that he was concealing from him the information which he possessed. It was partly because of these suspicions which had taken possession of his mind, and partly because he was extremely anxious to learn more about Bruce Decker, that Mr. Dexter, Senior, determined to cut short his stay in Europe, and return at once to New York.

He had landed early that morning, and one of his first duties had been to go and see Ann Crehan, the old woman who had once been a nurse in the Van Kuren family, and who was supported now by them and by himself. The poor old creature poured into his sympathetic ear a sad tale of destitution. One of her remittances had failed to reach her, and in order to tide over a brief period, she had applied to the younger Mr. Dexter for a loan, but without success. Then, not wishing to have her true condition made known to her neighbors—for the poor are far more sensitive than the rich,—she had made up a little package of a few old pieces of silver-ware and the gold watch she cherished above all her earthly possessions, and taken them down to Eldridge Street, where “an ould blood-letting scoundrel” 313had loaned her a few dollars on them.

The old creature had but one anxiety now, and that was to recover her lost trinkets, and her benefactor readily promised to come the very next day—for his foreign money was not then exchanged—and bring her the funds that would enable her to do so.

On his way up-town that night, Mr. Dexter thought with bitterness and regret of the in-gratitude shown him by the nephew, whom he had intended to make his heir.

“He might have spared a few dollars for old Ann Crehan, if not on my account on his own, for it was she who saved his life when he was merely a boy, and a man must be hard hearted indeed, who can forget such a service.”

But despite his feelings he said nothing to his nephew about the old nurse, nor did he allude to the evasive reply which had been sent to him in Paris. On the contrary, he greeted his kinsman pleasantly, and chatted with him in his usual easy and amiable fashion until the time had come for them to separate for the night.

When the old gentleman descended to the breakfast-room the next morning, he found 314that his nephew had gone down-town, leaving word with the servant that he might be detained that night until a late hour.

Mr. Dexter accordingly breakfasted alone, and then called his carriage, and was driven to the elevated railroad station, where he took a train to the lower part of the city. It was twelve o’clock when, having attended to several matters of business, he............