son is very partial to you, that's all I can say. He wouldn't
let me be away for a couple of hours, in the morning, even if I did
have _important_ business."

"I have no doubt he would. I hope you won't be disturbed if I tell you
that I am going out again this afternoon."

"And you get twice as much pay as I," said Maurice, with
dissatisfaction. "I say it's a shame."

"You must remember, Maurice, that I don't fix the salaries. If I could
fix it so, your salary should be raised at once, so as to equal mine."

"It's easy to say that," said Maurice Walton, discontentedly.

Gilbert, in spite of the discontent of his fellow-clerk, took his hat
at half-past two, and left the store. He reached the Burnet House about
ten minutes of three, and went at once to the reading-room, where he
was to meet his uncle.

Mr. Grey was already in waiting. He was seated in an arm-chair, looking
over a file of the New York _Herald_.

"I have come, Mr. Grey," said Gilbert, "as you proposed."

"Humph! Have you the paper?"

"Yes, sir."

Here Mr. Grey showed signs of satisfaction, as Gilbert was
quick-sighted enough to perceive.

"We will go up stairs to my room," said his uncle, rising, and laying
down the paper. "We shall be more private there."

"Perhaps he thinks he can get hold of the paper better," thought our
hero, though, of course, he kept his thought to himself.

"Follow me," said Mr. Grey. "Give me the key to No. 157," he said, to
the hotel clerk.

Gilbert followed him up several flights of stairs till he reached his
room.

"Enter," he said, unlocking the door.

Gilbert did so, feeling, at the same time, a queer sensation, as he
thought of the attempt that might be made at violence. However, he was
not wanting in courage, and did not deign to give audience to fear.

"Sit down," said Mr. Grey, abruptly.

Gilbert seated himself near the door. His uncle drew up a chair for
himself, but, as our hero noted, placed it between him and the door.

"He wants to cut me off from escape," he thought. "Never mind; he'll
let me go when he finds he can't make anything by keeping me."

"Well," said his uncle, when they were seated, "let me know all about
this precious plot you have been hatching."

"I am engaged in no plot, Mr. Grey," said Gilbert, steadily.

"Of course not. Conspirators are the last to admit the real character
of their designs. But that don't alter the fact. You have laid a plot
for getting possession of my p