CHAPTER XVIII. — A PLOT AGAINST ANDY.
Some six weeks later, about the middle of the forenoon, a Western Union Telegraph boy entered the store and handed Mr. Flint a telegram.
Tearing it open, the jeweler read the contents and seemed quite agitated.
"Mr. Rich," he said, turning to the head clerk, "I have bad news. My only brother is dangerously sick. This dispatch says that if I wish to see him alive I must start at once."
"Where does he live?"
"In Denver, Colorado."
"That is a long way off."
"Yes. I don't see how I can leave the business, but I cannot bear to think of my brother dying without my seeing him again."
"I think, sir, that I can keep things straight. I have been with you for six years."