the thief. The chances are good."

"The thief will not be likely to profit much by his theft," said Mr.
Turner, when they were again in the street. "The four hundred dollars,
to be sure, he can use; but the railway and bank stocks will be
valueless to him, and the bonds may bring him into trouble. Still, the
loss of the securities is an inconvenience; I shall be glad to recover
them. By the way, Mr. Vanderpool ought at once to be apprised of his
loss. You may go up there at once. Here is his address."

Mr. Turner wrote upon a card, the name

JAMES VANDERPOOL,
_No. -- West Twenty-Seventh Street_

and handed it to Rufus.

"After seeing Mr. Vanderpool, you will come to my house this evening,
and report what he says. Assure him that we will do our best to recover
the box. I shall expect you, during the week which I allow you, to
report yourself daily at the office, to inform me of any clue which you
may have obtained."

"You may depend upon me, sir," said our hero.

Rufus at once repaired to the address furnished him by Mr. Turner.

Another difficult and disagreeable task lay before him. It is not a very
pleasant commission to inform a man of the loss of property,
particularly when, as in the present case, the informant feels that the
fault of the loss may be laid to his charge. But Rufus accepted the
situation manfully, feeling that, however disagreeable, it devolved upon
him justly.

He took the University Place cars, and got out at Twenty-Seventh Street.
He soon found Mr. Vanderpool's address, and, ringing the bell, was
speedily admitted.

"Yes, Mr. Vanderpool is at home," said the servant. "Will you go up to
his study?"

Rufus followed the servant up the front staircase, and was ushered into
a front room on the second floor. There was a library table in the
centre of the apartment, at which was seated a gentleman of about
sixty, with iron-gray hair, and features that bore the marks of sickness
and invalidism.

Mr. Vanderpool had inherited a large estate, which, by careful
management, had increased considerably. He had never been in active
business, but, having some literary and scientific tastes, had been
content to live on his income, and cultivate the pursuits to which he
was most inclined.

"Mr. Vanderpool?" said Rufus, in a tone of inquiry.

"Yes," said that gentleman, looking over his glasses, "that is my name.
Do you want to speak to me?"

"I come from Mr. Turner, the banker," said Ru