loss of blood, scarce a furlong from the scene of
the robbery, and wounded in the shoulder. That let in Captain Cowen's
evidence, and the culprit was committed for trial, and soon after
peached upon his only comrade at large. The other lay in the hospital
at Newgate.

The magistrate complimented Captain Cowen on his conduct and his
evidence, and he went away universally admired. Yet he was not elated,
nor indeed content. Sitting by the magistrate's side, after he had
given his evidence, he happened to look all round the Court, and in a
distant corner he saw the enormous mottled nose and sinister eyes of
Daniel Cox glaring at him with a strange but puzzled expression.

Cowen had learned to read faces, and he said to himself: "What is there
in that ruffian's mind about me? Did he know me years ago? I cannot
remember him. Curse the beast--one would almost--think--he is
cudgelling his drunken memory. I'll keep an eye on you."

He went home thoughtful and discomposed, because this drunkard glowered
at him so. The reception he met with at the "Swan" effaced the
impression. He was received with acclamations, and now that publicity
was forced on him, he accepted it, and revelled in popularity.

About this time he received a letter from his son, enclosing a notice
from the college tutor, speaking highly of his ability, good conduct,
devotion to study.

This made the father swell with loving pride.

Jack hinted modestly that there were unavoidable expenses, and his
funds were dwindling. He enclosed an account that showed how the money
went.

The father wrote back and bade him be easy; he should have every
farthing required, and speedily. "For," said he, "my half-year's
interest is due now."

Two days after he had a letter from his man of business, begging him to
call. He went with alacrity, making sure his money was waiting for him
as usual.

His lawyer received him very gravely, and begged him to be seated. He
then broke to him some appalling news, The great house of Brown,
Molyneux and Co. had suspended payments at noon the day before, and
were not expected to pay a shilling in the pound. Captain Cowen's
little fortune was gone--all but his pension of eighty pounds a year.

He sat like a man turned to stone; then he clasped his hands with
agony, and uttered two words--no more--"My son!"

He rose and left the place like one in a dream. He got down to
Knightsbridge, he hardly knew how. At the very