“Very well; my word of dishonor,” responded the man, desperately.

“Now you talk.  There’s no use in such a man as you putting on airs, and forgetting that he wears my clothes and fills himself at my table.”

“I do not forget it, sir, and I see that I am not likely to.”

“Not while you do business with me; and now, sit down and hear me.  The first thing you are to do is to ascertain whether Paul Benedict is dead.  It isn’t necessary that you should know my reasons.  You are to search every insane hospital, public and private, in the city, and every alms-house.  Put on your big airs and play philanthropist.  Find all the records of the past year—­the death records of the city—­everything that will help to determine that the man is dead, as I believe he is.  This will give you all you want to do for the present.  The man’s son is in the city, and the boy and the man left the Sevenoaks poor-house together.  If the man is alive, he is likely to be near him.  If he is dead he probably died near him.  Find out, too, if you can, when his boy came to live at Balfour’s over the way, and where he came from.  You may stumble upon what I want very soon, or it may take you all winter.  If you should fail then, I shall want you to take the road from here to Sevenoaks, and even to Number Nine, looking into all the alms-houses on the way.  The great point is to find out whether he is alive or dead, and to know, if he is dead, where, and exactly when, he died.  In the meantime, come to me every week with a written report of what you have done, and get your pay.  Come always after dark, so that none of Balfour’s people can see you.  Begin the business, and carry it on in your own way.  You are old and sharp enough not to need any aid from me, and now be off.”

The man took a roll of bills that Mr. Belcher handed him, and walked out of the door without a word.  As he rose to the sidewalk, Mr. Balfour came out of the door opposite to him, with the evident intention of taking a passing stage.  He nodded to Yates, whom he had not only known in other days, but had many times befriended, and the latter sneaked off down the street, while he, standing for a moment as if puzzled, turned, and with his latch-key re-entered his house.  Yates saw the movement, and knew exactly what it meant.  He only hoped that Mr. Belcher had not seen it, as, indeed, he had not, having been at the moment on his way upstairs.

Yates knew that, with his good clothes on, the keen lawyer would give but one interpretation to the change, and that any hope or direct plan he might have with regard to ascertaining when the boy was received into the family, and where he came from, was nugatory.  He would not tell Mr. Belcher this.

Mr. Balfour called his wife to the window, pointed out the retreating form of Yates, gave utterance to his suspicions, and placed her upon her guard.  Then he went to his office, as well satisfied that there was a mischievous scheme on foot as if he had overheard the conversation between Mr. Belcher and the man who had consented to be his tool.