could not wait to put distance between himself
and the hateful spot, and to begin the unraveling of what he knew,
despite all proof, was somebody's terrible blunder.

As cautiously as any convict of them all, escaping from his fetters,
the lad made his way into the street and thence with all speed to the
station. He had picked up a hat somewhere, but was still in full
dress, and more than one glance fell with suspicion upon his heated
countenance and disordered appearance. However, he was too deep in his
own thoughts to observe this, and as the train rushed cityward he grew
more calm and better able to formulate a plan of action.

"I begin to understand. This yearly visit of the 'master' has been to
Number 526. They were close friends, and brothers by marriage. This
year he has brought Margot with him. Will he, I wonder, will he let
her see this convict in stripes? No marvel that my question as to her
father's burial place was an unanswerable one. Mother desired me not
to mention the names of my forest friends before my father, but in
this I must disobey her. I dare not do otherwise. I must get the
whole, complete, detailed history of this awful affair, and there is
nobody who could so well remember it as its victim. But I believe
there were two victims, and one is suffering still. I only hope that
father's head will not be troubling him. I can't think of him without
these queer 'spells' yet he has always been capable of transacting
business, and I must get him to talk, even if it does confuse him. Oh!
hum! Will we never reach the city! And where is Margot now? If I knew
I should hurry to see her first; but--what a welcome her uncle would
give me if I succeeded in clearing her father's name. No wonder he
disliked me--rather I am astonished that he let me stay at all,
knowing my name, even if not my parentage. After that, of course, I
had to go. Yet he was kind and just to the last, despite his personal
feeling, and this poor Number 526 looks just as noble."

The house on Madison Avenue was dark when Adrian reached it, but he
knew that his father's private room was at the rear of the building
and, admitting himself with his latch-key, went directly there.

The banker sat in an attitude familiar to all his family, with his
hands locked together, his head bent, and his gaze fixed upon vacancy.
He might have been asleep for all appearances, but when Adrian entered
and bade "Good-evening, father," he responded promptly e