Making His Mark. Alger Horatio Jr.

much perturbation, Mrs. Lane looked for it. The window was open, and it might have been blown out. With this idea in mind she went out on the lawn and searched carefully, but in vain; the missing paper was nowhere to be found.

      Mrs. Lane sank into a chair in dismay.

      "What a fool I was not to take it with me!" she said to herself. "I would have destroyed it and no one would have been the wiser. Now, should it fall into the hands of some third person it may be used to my detriment."

      Again she hunted about the room, and searched the lawn. It certainly was very mysterious. She had been gone less than five minutes, yet the paper had disappeared and there was no trace of it.

      "If some child found it he would probably tear it up, and this would answer my purpose," she thought, "and all would be safe."

      She looked about, hoping to see some child near at hand, but none was visible.

      Toiling along the road at a little distance was a man, whose outward appearance and shabby habiliments proclaimed him a tramp. Mrs. Lane's glance fell upon him, but did not connect him with the lost document. Yet it could have been found in one of his inside pockets, where he had carefully placed it.

      This is the way it happened:

      When Mrs. Lane left the room two windows were open, making a draught through the room. In a line between the windows was the table on which she had placed the letter. Scarcely had Mrs. Lane gone down-stairs when the wind, in a frolicsome mood, lifted the paper and wafted it through the front window on the lawn outside. James Skerrett, the tramp, spied it from the road, and it occurred to him that it might be of some value. He entered the gate and a few steps brought him to the paper. He picked it up and put it in his pocket, not as yet knowing what it was. It might, however, be worth something, and it was on the chance of this that he took it. He did not stop to examine it lest he should be observed. Time enough for that later. Indeed, he did not venture upon this till he was a quarter of a mile away.

      Though a tramp, James Skerrett had received a fair education, and was a man of some intelligence. He was qualified to earn a good living in some respectable position, but drink was his enemy and was likely to be through his life.

      When he read the letter, he guessed correctly that it was of importance.

      "Will the woman give me anything for it if I return it?" he asked himself.

      It hardly seemed likely. It would be better for her, perhaps, if it were destroyed. Besides, he had seen her through the open window, and her face had impressed him as that of a very mean woman.

      "She would be more likely to charge me with stealing and threaten me with arrest," he thought. "What shall I do? Shall I keep it? That would not pay me, as I may never come this way again. If I could get some one to take it and allow me even a dollar for it, it would be better to get it off my hands at once."

      This thought was strengthened by the knowledge that his whole available stock of money amounted to but seven cents. Lifting his eyes casually, his glance rested on a sign over a small office building on the opposite side of the street.

      This was the sign:

Enoch Perkins,Attorney-at-Law

      As a rule, the tramp avoided any person who had any connection with the law, but he was about to pose as a virtuous man returning lost property. Again, a lawyer would know the worth of the paper. At any rate he decided to call upon him and open negotiations.

      Mr. Perkins was sitting at his desk making out a conveyance, when he heard a furtive step at the door of his office.

      Lifting his eyes, he noticed James Skerrett opening the door, with an apologetic look upon his face. Now, a client was always welcome, for Mr. Perkins was a young man, and his business was as yet limited. But the visitor did not look like a client.

      "What do you want, my man?" he asked, rather gruffly.

      "Are you a lawyer?"

      "Yes; do you want me to make your will?" asked Perkins, smiling.

      "Well, no; not at present. I expect to live a little longer."

      "Just so. Still, life is uncertain, and if you should die suddenly your property might go into the wrong hands."

      "That's so, squire; but I guess there's no hurry about my will. I wanted to ask your advice."

      "Exactly. I am ready to give it for a consideration."

      "Oh, you're a sharp one!" said the tramp. "But I'll come to the point. I was walkin' along the street five minutes since, when I saw a folded paper on the sidewalk. I picked it up and I'll show it to you, for I think the party that lost it might be willin' to pay me somethin' for it."

      Enoch Perkins took the paper from his strange client. As he unfolded and read it, he looked surprised.

      "Where did you pick this up?" he asked, abruptly.

      "A little way down the road."

      "Near a house with two elm trees in front?"

      "Yes," replied Skerrett, eagerly.

      "I think I know the party that lost it. I will take charge of it and return it to her."

      "All right, squire; but there may be a reward."

      "Exactly. Well, you ought to have some thing for picking it up. Here's a dollar."

      "Thank you, sir," said Skerrett, taking the bill with avidity.

      "I suppose you are only passing through the town?"

      "Yes, sir."

      "Don't mention finding the paper; it might annoy the lady who lost it."

      "Yes, sir; I'll remember, sir."

      He left the office, and the lawyer said to himself:

      "I will keep this letter. It may be worth a good deal to me some time."

      CHAPTER V

      ABEL ARRIVES IN PORTVILLE

      The train which reached Portville at four o'clock was full, and half a dozen persons were standing up. One seat, however, was not taken. At a window sat a boy of sixteen—a sallow-complexioned boy, with a face that was neither good-looking nor amiable. On the seat beside him was a valise.

      "Is this seat taken?" asked a pale, tired-looking woman, who had made her way up from the other end of the car.

      "Yes," answered Abel, gruffly, for this was the son of Mrs. Lane, now on his way to his mother's home.

      The woman sighed, for she was in poor health and very tired.

      A man sitting just behind said, indignantly:

      "No, madam, it is not taken. Remove your valise, boy, and let the lady sit down."

      "I am expecting a friend to get in at the next station," said Abel, crossly.

      "That makes no difference. This lady is here, and is better entitled to a seat than a passenger in the next town."

      "I don't see what business it is of yours," said Abel, irritably.

      He made no offer to remove the valise.

      "Then I will show you."

      The gentleman took Abel's bag and set it down in the aisle.

      "Now sit down, madam," he said.

      "Thank you, sir, but I don't want to incommode the young gentleman."

      "He has no right to feel incommoded. Take the seat. It is your right."

      She sank into the seat with a sigh of relief.

      Abel felt and looked very indignant. He was a boy who had always been accustomed to consult his own comfort and convenience, and he was vexed that he had been compelled to yield in the present instance.

      The woman coughed. She evidently had a severe cold. Abel had opened the window, and a strong east wind entered. It would have been uncomfortable even to a person perfectly well, but to one having a cough it was very trying.

      "Would you mind putting down the window?" she asked, timidly. "I have a terrible cold."

      "I