willing to oblige him if he is a sober, steady and economical business
man. I want you to find out whether this is the case and report to me."

"Won't that be difficult?" asked Carl.

"Are you afraid to undertake anything that is difficult?"

"No," answered Carl, with a smile. "I was only afraid I might not do the
work satisfactorily."

"I shall give you no instructions," said Miss Norris. "I shall trust to
your good judgment. I will give you a letter to Mr. French, which you
can use or not, as you think wise. Of course, I shall see that you are
paid for your trouble."

"Thank you," said Carl. "I hope my services may be worth compensation."

"I don't know how you are situated as to money, but I can give you some
in advance," and the old lady opened her pocketbook.

"No, thank you, Miss Norris; I shall not need it. I might have been
short if you had not kindly paid me a reward for a slight service."

"Slight, indeed! If you had lost a bank book like mine you would be glad
to get it back at such a price. If you will catch the rascal who stole
it I will gladly pay you as much more."

"I wish I might for my own sake, but I am afraid it would be too late to
recover my money and clothing."

At an early hour Carl left the house, promising to write to Miss Norris
from Chicago.

CHAPTER XXXII.

A STARTLING DISCOVERY.

"Well," thought Carl, as he left the house where he had been so
hospitably entertained, "I shall not lack for business. Miss Norris
seems to have a great deal of confidence in me, considering that I am a
stranger. I will take care that she does not repent it."

"Can you give a poor man enough money to buy a cheap meal?" asked a
plaintive voice.

Carl scanned the applicant for charity closely. He was a man of medium
size, with a pair of small eyes, and a turnup nose. His dress was
extremely shabby, and he had the appearance of one who was on bad terms
with fortune. There was nothing striking about his appearance, yet Carl
regarded him with surprise and wonder. Despite the difference in age, he
bore a remarkable resemblance to his stepbrother, Peter Cook.

"I haven't eaten anything for twenty-four hours," continued the tramp,
as he may properly be called. "It's a hard world to such as me, boy."

"I should judge so from your looks," answered Carl.

"Indeed you are right. I was born to ill luck."

Carl had some doubts about this. Those who represent themselves as born
to ill luck can usuall