l messenger.

Had he? Certain old and well-worn words came into his mind: they had
been in his "writing-book" in his early school-days: "_A chain is no
stronger than its weakest link._" Cyrus jumped off the car before it
fairly stopped and started at a hot pace for the corner of West and
Dwight streets. There must be no weak places in his word of honour.

Doggedly he went to the extreme limit of the indicated route, even
taking the longest way round to make the turn. As he started back,
beneath the arc light at the corner there suddenly appeared a city
messenger boy. He approached Cyrus grinning, and held out an envelope.

"Ordered to give you this," he said, "if you made connections. If you'd
been later than five minutes past seven, I was to keep dark. You've got
seven minutes and a half to spare. Queer orders, but the big railroad
boss, Woodbridge, give 'em to me."

Cyrus made his way back to the car with some self-congratulations that
served to brace up the muscles behind his knees. This last incident
showed him plainly that his father was putting him to a severe test of
some sort, and he could have no doubt that it was for a purpose. His
father was the kind of man who does things with a very definite purpose
indeed. Cyrus looked back over the day with an anxious searching of his
memory to be sure that no detail of the singular service required of
him had been slighted.

As he once more ascended the steps of his own home, he was so confident
that his labours were now ended that he almost forgot about "Env. No.
20" which he had been directed to read in the vestibule before entering
the house. With his thumb on the bell-button he recollected, and with a
sigh broke open the final seal:

Turn about and go to Lenox Street Station, B---- Railroad,
reaching there by 8.05. Wait for messenger in west end of
station, by telegraph office. C. W., Jr.

It was a blow, but Cyrus had his second wind now. He felt like a
machine--a hollow one--which could keep on going indefinitely.

"I know how an automobile feels," he said to himself, "rolling about
from one place to another--never knowing where it's due next--always
waiting outside--never getting fed. Wonder if eating is on this
schedule. I'd have laid in something besides a chop and a roll this
morning at breakfast if I'd known what was ahead."

The Lenox Station was easily reached on time. The hands of the big clock
were only at one minute past eight w