When Julius Gibbon saw the door open and Philip Stark enter the room where he was smoking his noon cigar, his heart quickened its pulsations and he turned pale.
"How are you, old friend?" said Stark, boisterously. "Funny, isn't it, that I should run across your nephew?"
"Very strange!" ejaculated Gibbon, looking the reverse of joyous.
"It's a happy meeting, isn't it? We used to see a good deal of each other," and he laughed in a way that Gibbon was far from enjoying.
"Now, I've come over to have a good, long chat with you. Leonard, I think we won't keep you, as you wouldn't be interested in our talk about old times."
"Yes, Leonard, you may leave us," added his uncle.
Leonard's curiosity was excited, and he would have been glad to remain, but as there was no help for it, he went out.
When they were alone, Stark drew up his chair close, and laid his hand familiarly on the bookkeeper's knee.
"I say, Gibbon, do you remember where we last met?"
Gibbon shuddered slightly.
"Yes," he answered, feebly.
"It was at Joliet--Joliet Penitentiary. Your time expired before mine. I envied you the six months' advantage you had of me. When I came out I searched for you everywhere, but heard nothing."
"How did you know I was here?" asked the bookkeeper.
"I didn't know. I had no suspicion of it.
Nor did I dream that Leonard, who was able to do me a little service, was your nephew. I say, he's a chip of the old block, Gibbon," and Stark laughed as if he enjoyed it.
"What do you mean by that?"
"I was lying in a field, overcome by liquor, an old weakness of mine, you know, and my wallet had slipped out of my pocket. I chanced to open my eyes, when I saw it in the hands of your promising nephew, ha! ha!"
"He told me that."
"But he didn't tell you that he was on the point of appropriating a part of the contents?
I warrant you he didn't tell you that."
"Did he acknowledge it? Perhaps you misjudged him."
"He didn't acknowledge it in so many words, but I knew it by his change of color and confusion.
Oh, I didn't lay it up against him.
We are very good friends. He comes honestly by it."
Gibbon looked very much annoyed, but there were reasons why he did not care to express his chagrin.
"On my honor, it was an immense surprise to me," proceeded Stark, "when I learned that my old friend Gibbon was a resident of Milford."
"I wish you had never found it out," thought Gibbon, biting his lip.
"No sooner did I hear it than I posted off at once to call on you."
"So I see."
Stark elevated his eyebrows, and looked amused. He saw that he was not a welcome visitor, but for that he cared little.
"Haven't you got on, though? Here I find you the trusted bookkeeper of an important business firm. Did you bring recommendations from your last place?" and he burst into a loud guffaw.
"I wish you wouldn't make such references," snapped Gibbon. "They can do no good, and might do harm."
"Don't be angry, my dear boy. I rejoice at your good fortune. Wish I was equally well fixed. You don't ask how I am getting on."
"I hope you are prosperous," said Gibbon, coldly.
"I might be more so. Is there a place vacant in your office?"
"No."
"And if there were, you might not recommend me, eh?"
"There is no need to speak of that. There is no vacancy."
