wronged you out of a dollar, and had no
intention of wronging you now. But I am in a fearful strait. My feet
have become suddenly mired, and this was a desperate struggle for
extrication--a temporary expedient only, not a premeditated wrong
against you."

"Sit down, Martin," said Mr. Phillips, in a grave, but not severe,
tone of voice. "Let me understand the case from first to last.
Conceal nothing, if you wish to have me for a friend."

Thus enjoined, Martin told his humiliating story.

"If you had not gone into the way of temptation, the betrayer had
not found you," was the remark of Mr. Phillips, when the young man
ended his confession. "Do you frequent these eating and drinking
saloons?"

"I go occasionally, sir."

"They are neither safe nor reputable, Martin. A young man who
frequents them must have the fine tone of his manhood dimmed. There
is an atmosphere of impurity about these places. Have you a younger
brother?"

"Yes, sir."

"Would you think it good for him, as he emerged from youth to
manhood, to visit refectories and billiard saloons?"

"No, sir, I would do all in my power to prevent it."

"Why?"

"There's danger in them, sir."

"And, knowing this, you went into the way of danger, and have
fallen!"

Martin dropped his eyes to the floor in confusion.

"Bland is a stool-pigeon and you were betrayed."

"What am I to do?" asked the troubled young man. "I am in debt to
him."

"He will be here to-morrow."

"Yes, sir."

"I will have a policeman ready to receive him."

"O, no, no, Sir. Pray don't do that!" answered Martin, with a
distressed look.

"Why not?" demanded Mr. Phillips.

"It will ruin me."

"How?"

"Bland will denounce me."

"Let him."

"I shall be exposed to the policeman."

"An evil, but a mild one, compared with that to which you were
rushing in order to disentangle yourself. I must have my way, sir.
This matter has assumed a serious aspect. You are in my power, and
must submit."

On the next day, punctual to the hour, Bland called.

"This is your man," said Mr. Phillips to his clerk. "Ask him into
the counting-room." Bland, thus invited, walked back. As he entered,
Mr. Phillips said,--

"My clerk owes you a hundred and fifty dollars, I understand."

"Yes, sir;" and the villain bowed.

"Make him out a receipt," said Mr. Phillips.

"When I receive the money," was coldly and resolutely answered.
Martin glanced sideways at the face of Bland, and the sudden