A Debt of Honor

“He was at Brentwood, Minnesota, till recently. It was there that I met him a few weeks since.”

“I doubt if you will find him there now,” answered Wentworth, registering a resolve to send a special telegram to him to change his residence in consideration of a handsome check.

“You are right, Mr. Wentworth,” was Gerald’s unexpected reply. “He is in this town.”

“What!” ejaculated Wentworth in dismay.

“It is as I say. He is prepared to testify that he paid you personally the money on the forged check, and that you have from time to time paid him money to keep this secret.”

“No one will believe him,” said Wentworth, very much perturbed.

“You can discuss that question with Mr. Cochrane. I have merely wished to let you know the strength of our case. But before I go I ought to tell you that there is another person who has come with me from the West.”

“Who is it in Heaven’s name?”

“It is your son Victor.”

“Victor!” exclaimed Bradley Wentworth, his face radiant with joy. “Is he well? Where is he?”

“At the hotel.”

“Where did you find him?”

“In Kansas City some weeks since. The poor boy was sick and unable to work. I had him leave the store where he was employed, though hardly able to stand, and I paid the expenses of his sickness. He is now well and anxious to see his father.”

Bradley Wentworth’s face worked convulsively. His hard heart was touched at last.

“God bless you, boy,” he said; “you have restored my son to me. I shall not forget it. You can send your lawyer to me. I will do what is fair and right; I begin to think that I have been wrong all these years.”

“Will you consent to authorize a statement clearing my father from any connection with the forged check?”

“Yes, as long as I am not personally implicated.”

“Mr. Cochrane tells me that this can be arranged – ”

“If Victor is at the hotel I will go over at once.”

Victor, uneasy and anxious, saw his father coming across the street. He did not know how he would be received, but he was not left long in suspense. The father’s hard heart was softened, and he felt sincerely grateful that his only child had been restored to him.

The next week the Seneca weekly published a card from Mr. Wentworth stating that a discovery had been made exonerating the late Warren Lane from the charge which had so long been laid at his door. “The guilt lies elsewhere,” so the card read, “but at this late day it is unnecessary to mention the name of the actual delinquent.”

The debt of honor was paid, and Warren Lane’s memory was vindicated.

Gerald felt that the task to which he had consecrated his energies was accomplished, and he could rest content. He is already rich for a young man, but he cares little for money compared with his father’s vindication.

THE END