“It is not always that retribution so quickly overtakes the wrongdoer,” said Melville.  “St. Louis will hardly be proud of the man who claims her citizenship.”

“Dishonesty doesn’t seem to pay in his case,” said Herbert, thoughtfully.

“It never pays in any case, Herbert,” said George Melville, emphatically.  “Even if a man could steal enough to live upon, and were sure not to be found out, he would not enjoy his ill-gotten gain, as an honest man enjoys the money he works hard for.  But when we add the risk of detection and the severe penalty of imprisonment, it seems a fatal mistake for any man to overstep the bounds of honesty and enroll himself as a criminal.”

“I agree with you, Mr. Melville,” said Herbert, thoughtfully.  “I don’t think I shall ever be tempted, but if I am, I will think of this man and his quick detection.”

When they reached the depot, a little before four o’clock, George Melville sent Herbert to the ticket office to purchase tickets, while he remained in the waiting room.

“I might as well accustom you to the duties that are likely to devolve upon you,” he said, with a smile.

Herbert had purchased the tickets and was turning away, when to his surprise he saw Ebenezer Graham enter the depot, laboring evidently under considerable excitement.  He did not see Herbert, so occupied was he with thoughts of an unpleasant nature, till the boy greeted him respectfully.

“Herbert Carr!” he said; “when did you come into Boston?”

“This morning, sir.”

“Have you seen anything of my son, Eben, here?” gasped Mr. Graham.

“Yes, sir; he was on the same train, but I did not see him to speak to him till after I reached the city.”

“Do you know what he has been doing here?” asked Ebenezer, his face haggard with anxiety.

“I only saw him for five minutes,” answered Herbert, reluctant to tell the father what he knew would confirm any suspicion he might entertain.

“Where did you see him?” demanded Ebenezer, quickly.

“At a railroad ticket office not far from the Old South Church.”

“Do you know if he bought any ticket?” asked Ebenezer, anxiously.

“Yes,” answered Herbert.  “I overheard him purchasing a ticket to Chicago.”

Ebenezer groaned, and his face seemed more and more wizened and puckered up.

“It is as I thought!” he exclaimed, bitterly.  “My own son has robbed me and fled like a thief, as he is.”

Herbert was shocked, but not surprised.  He didn’t like to ask particulars, but Ebenezer volunteered them.

“This morning,” he said, “I foolishly gave Eben a hundred dollars, and sent him to Boston to pay for a bill of goods which I recently bought of a wholesale house on Milk Street.  If I had only known you were going in, I would have sent it by you.”

Herbert felt gratified at this manifestation of confidence, especially as he had so recently been charged with robbing the post office, but did not interrupt Mr. Graham, who continued: