He walked to the court-room
with me, and told me he was sure I was not guilty."

"I am certainly surprised, but I am pleased also. That is a point in
Percy's favor, an unexpected one. He shan't lose by it."

"I am afraid I shouldn't have got off if it hadn't been for a young
lawyer from New York, named Conway, who volunteered to defend me."

"Go on. Give me an account of it. Can you give me the address of Mr.
Conway?"

"Yes, uncle. I have it here."

"I may be able to throw a little business in his way. One good turn
deserves another."

"I wish you would, Uncle Jacob. Mr. Conway refused to accept a fee,
knowing that I could not afford to pay him."

Uncle Jacob asked other questions as the dinner proceeded. Finally Bert
brought out his most important piece of news.

"I have just found out that my father is still alive," he said.

"Yes, I knew that," returned Uncle Jacob calmly.

"You knew it?"

"Yes, he has been to see me."

"He has! When?"

"Last week."

"You don't think him guilty of the charge which was brought against
him?"

"No; I think him a badly-used man."

"I wish I could be the means of proving his innocence."

"I mean that you shall be."

Bert surveyed his uncle in surprise.

"In fact, it is for that reason I have sent for you. Your father has put
his case into my hands, and I propose to see him righted. This evening,
when I am free from business cares, I will speak further with you on
this subject."

Uncle Jacob called for his check, paid it, and they returned to the
office.

CHAPTER XXV.

AN ADVERTISEMENT AND WHAT CAME OF IT.

Uncle Jacob left the office at five o'clock, and Bert, who had been
exploring the lower part of New York, went uptown with him on the Sixth
Avenue road. They got out at Twenty-third Street, and Jacob Marlowe led
the way to a large, roomy house near Seventh Avenue. He took out a
night-key, and opening the outer door proceeded to a large, handsomely
furnished apartment on the second floor, with a bedroom attached.

"This is where I live, Bert," he remarked, as he took off his hat and
hung it up in a closet.

Bert looked around him. To him the room looked quite luxurious, being
furnished in a style which would compare favorably even with Squire
Marlowe's, the best house in Lakeville.

Bert knew nothing of room rents in New York; but, inexperienced as he
was, he was surprised that his uncle, on a salary of twelve dollars a
week, should be able to