He wanted to have a few words with Mr. Browning, even upon an indifferent subject, as he now thought it probable that this was the man who had defrauded his mother and himself.

 

Browning, too, on his part, wished for an opportunity to speak with the son of the man he had so shamefully swindled.

 

"Yes," he said, abruptly, "you may give me the _Times._"

 

When the paper had been paid for, he said:

 

"Do you make a good living at selling papers?"

 

"It gives me about seventy-five cents a day," answered Luke.

 

"You can live on that, I suppose?"

 

"I have a mother to support."

 

"That makes a difference. Why do you stay in Chicago? You could make a better living farther West."

 

"In California?" asked Luke, looking intently at Browning.

 

Thomas Browning started.

 

"What put California into your head?" he asked.

 

"My father died in California."

 

"A good reason for your not going there."

 

"I thought you might be able to tell me something about California," continued Luke.

 

"Why should I?"

 

"I thought perhaps you had been there."

 

"You are right," said Browning, after a pause. "I made a brief trip to San Francisco at one time. It was on a slight matter of business. But I don't know much about the interior and can't give you advice."

 

"I wonder if this is true," thought Luke. "He admits having been to California, but says he has never been in the interior. If that is the case, he can't have met my father."

 

"I may at some time have it in my power to find you a place farther West, but not in California," resumed Browning. "I will take it into consideration. I frequently come to Chicago, and I presume you are to be found here."

 

"Yes, sir."

 

Thomas Browning waved his hand by way of good-by, and continued on his way.

 

"The boy seems sharp," he said to himself. "If he had the slightest hint of my connection with his father's money, he looks as if he would follow it up. Luckily there is no witness and no evidence. No one can prove that I received the money."

 

At the corner of Adams Street Mr. Browning encountered his nephew, Stephen Webb, who was gazing in at a window with a cigar in his mouth, looking the very image of independent leisure.

 

"You are profitably employed," said Browning, dryly.

 

Stephen Webb wheeled round quickly.

 

"Glad to see you, Uncle Thomas," he said, effusively. "I suppose you received my letter?"

 

"Yes."

 

"I hope you are satisfied. I had hard work to find out about the boy."

 

"Humph! I don't see how there could be anything difficult about it. I hope you didn't mention my name?"

 

"No. I suppose you are interested in the boy," said Stephen, with a look of curious inquiry.

 

"Yes; I always feel interested in the poor, and those who require assistance."

 

"I am glad of that, uncle, for you have a poor nephew."

 

"And a lazy one," said Browning, sharply. "Where would I be if I had been as indolent as you?"

 

"I am sure I am willing to do whatever you require, Uncle Thomas. Have you any instructions?"

 

"Well, not just now, except to let me know all you can learn about the newsboy. Has he any other source of income except selling papers?"

 

"I believe he does a few odd jobs now and then, but I don't suppose he earns much outside."