They were walking down Broadway one day, when Frank Sylvester noticed a sudden start on the part of his young companion.
"What is the matter, Rupert?" he asked.
"Do you see that stout man on the opposite side of the street, Mr. Sylvester?" said Rupert.
"Yes. What of him?"
"He was the cause of my poor father's failure and death."
"How was that?"
"My father was a merchant in Buffalo, and that man was his partner. During a three months' absence in California, where he went partly for his health, the business was managed by Mr. Lorimer in such a way that the firm became deeply involved and was brought to the brink of failure.
"My father was greatly astonished at the sudden change, for when he left all was prosperous. He could not account for the disappearance of assets and the accumulation of claims against the firm except on the theory that large sums had been appropriated by his partner. He could prove nothing, however, and the firm was dissolved. When the business was closed there was barely enough money left to pay the creditors. My father found himself with nothing, and soon died of grief and mortification."
"What became of Lorimer?"