atically.

"He probably didn't think I would be here so soon. I didn't expect to
be, but a telegram summoned me to the city on other business."

Of course Luke understood that the conversation related to Kean, and
that he had arrived none too soon. He came forward.

"I have a letter for you from Mr. Kean," he said.

"Ha! Give it to me!"

Mr. Cooper tore open the envelope, saw the bank bills, and read the
letter.

"It's all right, Mr. Crossley," he said, his brow clearing. "Read that
letter."

"I am really glad," said Crossley.

"How is Mr. Kean?" asked Cooper, in a friendly tone.

"He had a severe headache, but he is better, and hopes to be at the
office to-morrow."

"Tell him I shall be glad to see him, but don't want him to come
unless he is really able."

"Thank you, sir. I will do so." And Luke left the office.

He went back to Ambrose Kean, and told him what had happened at the
office.

"I have escaped better than I deserved," he said. "It will be a lesson
to me. Please tell Mrs. Merton that her timely aid has saved my
reputation and rescued my poor mother from sorrow and destitution."

"I will, and I am sure she will consider the money well spent."

The next morning, as Luke stood at his usual post, he saw Thomas
Browning, of Milwaukee, come out of the Sherman House. He knew him at
once by the wart on the upper part of his right cheek, which gave him
a remarkable appearance.

"Can there be two persons answering this description?" Luke asked
himself.

Thomas Browning came across the street, and paused in front of Luke.

CHAPTER XXIII

STEPHEN WEBB IS PUZZLED

"Will you have a morning paper?" asked Luke.

He wanted to have a few words with Mr. Browning, even upon an
indifferent subject, as he now thought it probable that this was the
man who had defrauded his mother and himself.

Browning, too, on his part, wished for an opportunity to speak with
the son of the man he had so shamefully swindled.

"Yes," he said, abruptly, "you may give me the _Times._"

When the paper had been paid for, he said:

"Do you make a good living at selling papers?"

"It gives me about seventy-five cents a day," answered Luke.

"You can live on that, I suppose?"

"I have a mother to support."

"That makes a difference. Why do you stay in Chicago? You could make a
better living farther West."

"In California?" asked Luke, looking intently at Browning.

Thomas Browning started.

"What put Cal