"You've been treated bad, Oliver," he said, "but don't mind it, boy. Nicholas Bundy'll be your friend. He won't see you want. You shan't suffer as long as I have an ounce of gold."
"Thank you, Mr. Bundy," said Oliver gratefully. "I may need your help, but, remember, I have no claim on you."
"You have as much claim as anyone. Look upon me as your guardian, and don't be anxious about the future. I, too, have been wrongly used, and some day I'll tell you the story."
Two days later, as they sat on the deck of a Staten Island steamer, Nicholas Bundy told Oliver his story.
"Twenty years ago," he said, "I was a clerk in a store in New York. I was a spruce young man then—you wouldn't think it, but I was. I was earning a moderate salary, and spending it nearly all as I went along. About this time I fell in love with a young girl of sweet face and lovely disposition, and she returned my love. I've been battered about since, and the years have used me hard, but I wasn't so then. Well, I had a fellow-clerk, by name Jones,—Rupert Jones,—who took a fancy to the same girl. But he found she liked me better, and would say nothing to him, and he plotted my ruin. He was an artful, scheming villain, but I didn't know it then. I thought him to be my friend. That made it the easier for him to succeed in his fiendish plot. I needn't dwell upon details, but there was a sum of money missing by our employers, and through this man's ingenuity it was made to appear that I took it. It was charged upon me, and my denial was disbelieved. My employers were merciful men, and they wouldn't have me arrested. But I was dismissed in disgrace, and I learned toolate that he did it. I charged him with it, and he laughed in my face. 'Addie won't marry you now!' he said. Then I knew his motive. I am glad to say he made nothing by it. I resigned all claim to my betrothed, but though she consented to this, she spurned him.
"Well, my career in New York was ended. I had a little money, and, after selling my watch, I secured a cheap passage to California. I made my way direct to the mines, and at once began work. I had varying luck. At times I prospered; at times I suffered privation. I made my home away from the coast in the interior. At last, after twenty years, I found myself rich. Then I became restless. I turned my money into gold and sailed for New York. Here I am, and I have just one purpose in view—to find my old enemy and to punish him if I get the chance."
"I can't blame you," said Oliver. "He spoiled your life."
"Yes, he robbed me of my dearest hopes. I have suffered for his sin, for I have no doubt he took the money himself."
"Do you know where he is now?"
"No; he may be in this city. If he is, I will find him. This is the great object of my life, and you must help me in it."