sponsibility established, it will be the best solution for all concerned."

"Of course Richard's counsel must know this. You are not binding me to secrecy to that extent ?"

"No," Treadway replied, seeming to hesitate for a moment; . . "he should have all the facts in his possession, of course. I should think that what I have just told you would influence his attitude. I will even talk the matter over with him if you think it wise."

"I cannot believe what you tell me, Treadway. It isn't that I question your words, but rather your eyesight. I start with the hypothesis that Richard is innocent, so you may very properly say that I am prejudiced... Have you ever listened to the contradictory statements made by equally conscientious witnesses of an automobile accident?"

Treadway shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm not trying to convict Richard," he explained. “I wish the burden of testimony might be removed from me to some one less intimately associated with the family. But I was present at the time, I saw what I did see, I am held as a material witness, and I must answer the questions that are put to me."

"Of course of course.. "Stewart agreed. "I understand all that . . . and I'm not sure that I wholly approve of your perjuring yourself before the Grand Jury, still your loyalty to the Norton family does you credit. I have not recovered yet from the shock you gave me, but the lawyer will know what is best to do. If Richard actually shot his father, he deserves but no, Treadway, I will not believe it!

In all that confusion you were deceived, and the fact that it was Richard's gun confirmed you in your false impression . . . But we'll drop the matter of the boy's relation to the business until the truth is established."

CHAPTER XXIII

WH

I

HEN TREADWAY assumed charge of James Norton's private office he discovered several papers the existence of which had previously been unknown to him. The one which proved to be of greatest interest to him personally was a codicil to his chief's will which canceled the original bequest of all his property to his son, leaving him only the house on the Hill and a legacy of ten thousand dollars. Treadway had always hoped that this might be the outcome of Norton's quarrel with Richard, but as no such suggestion had ever been made, it was a happy surprise to find himself named as a beneficiary to the extent of the old man's holdings in the Company and in the bank.

The realization which came to Treadway of the power and position this wealth would give him was almost overwhelming; but why had the codicil never been delivered to the executors? Norton had evidently caused it to be drawn immediately after Richard left home, but for some reason had postponed placing it with his will. Had this been due to a lingering affection for the boy, a hope of reconciliation in spite of their differences; had Norton been too occupied with other matters, or was

it simply an oversight? These questions could never be answered now, but Treadway preferred to assume that the newly-discovered document represented Norton's unalterable intention, and that it was his secretary's personal duty to prevent the accident of his death from causing a miscarriage of his obvious desires.

When, therefore, James Norton's will was duly probated, the codicil, properly signed and witnessed, was included. No one questioned the old man's change of heart. In view of all that had happened, the codicil was more obvious than the original document. Richard's friends were sympathetic but not surprised, the Directors of the Company were relieved, since Richard was not to be the heir, to have the stock fall into the hands of some one familiar with its affairs; the public spoke of Treadway's "luck"; and James Norton's erstwhile secretary settled down as the logical successor of the Great Man of Norcross.

II

Henry Cross watched the new turn of affairs with considerable interest. His experiences with Treadway had not predisposed him in his favor. Cross had hated Norton with the accumulated venom of over twenty years, but beneath that hatred was the inevitable respect which one strong man feels for another, whatever the differences in their religious, political, or business creeds. He had believed Norton when he told him that his signature was forged. The shock which came to him when Treadway flatly proclaimed his late chief a liar and a crook later gave way to incredulity. As a matter

of fact, Norton and Treadway had been very much in Cross's mind ever since the tragedy.

Treadway now represented the Norton interests at the meetings of the bank. Here Cross came into frequent contact with him, and found him modest and unassuming in wearing his new dignities.

"I little thought when I agreed to get you that stock," Treadway confided to him one day, “that it would be so prejudicial to my personal interests; but a promise is a promise, and you shall be the next president of the Norcross National Bank."

All this was gratifying to Henry Cross's ambitions, but with their realization close at hand, he found his satisfaction less than he had anticipated. It was one thing to assume the position he had long coveted without contest, and another to have forced James Norton, at the height of his arrogance, out of his chair at the head of that long mahogany table. The memory of the last meeting with his rival still proved disconcerting. He had seen the strong man weaken, he had seen the chilled steel pierced, and had been given a glimpse of human clay beneath, which he had not believed was there. If James Norton had lied to him during that conference, then Cross had been in the presence of the most consummate actor of his time; and if he had not lied...

Herein lay the disconcerting element. Was his instinctive distrust of William Treadway justified, and in which direction did his duty lie? Duty was still spelled with capital letters in Henry Cross's New England conscience, and he earnestly prayed that he had not yielded