see Maurice Trafford again.
While Maurice, on his side, drudged patiently on, very happy and
satisfied with his sudden rise, and dreaming foolish, youthful dreams,
and both of them were ignorant, poor children, that the wheel of
destiny was revolving a second time to bring them nearer together.

For when November came with its short days, its yellow fogs, its
heavy, damp atmosphere, a terrible thing happened in Mr. Huntingdon's
office.

A young clerk, the one above Maurice--a weak, dissipated fellow, who
had lately given great dissatisfaction by his unpunctuality and
carelessness--absconded one day with five thousand pounds belonging to
his employer. Mr. Huntingdon had just given authority to the manager
to dismiss him when the facts of his disappearance and the missing sum
were brought to their ears. The deed was a cool one, and so cleverly
executed that more than one believed that an older hand was concerned
in it; but in the midst of the consternation and confusion, while the
manager stood rubbing his hands nervously together, and Mr.
Huntingdon, in his cold, hard voice, was giving instructions to the
detective, Maurice Trafford quietly asked to speak to him a moment,
and offered to accompany the detective officer.

He knew George Anderson's haunts, he said, and from a chance word
accidentally overheard, he thought he had a clew, and might succeed in
finding him.

There was something so modest and self-reliant in the young man's
manner as he spoke that, after a searching glance at him, Mr.
Huntingdon agreed to leave the matter in his hands, only bidding him
not to let the young villain escape, as he certainly meant to punish
him.

Many were the incidents that befell Maurice and his companion in this
his first and last detective case; but at last, thanks to his sagacity
and the unerring instinct of the officer, they were soon on the right
track, and before night had very far advanced were hanging about a low
public-house in Liverpool, lurking round corners and talking to stray
sailors.

And the next morning they boarded the "Washington," bound for New
York, that was to loose anchor at the turn of the tide; and while
Staunton, the detective, was making inquiries of the captain about the
steerage passengers, Maurice's sharp eyes had caught sight of a young
sailor with a patch over his eye, apparently busy with a coil of
ropes, and he walked up to him carelessly; but as he loitered at his
side a moment his mann