"How did he speak of him?" demanded Marcus Benton quickly.
"As a tight-fisted old curmudgeon."
"He did—the young viper!" exclaimed the old man indignantly. "Spoke so of the man who left him his fortune!"
"Yes, sir. I couldn't help telling him I thought it not very becoming to speak in that way of his benefactor; and he told me to mind my own business."
"I wouldn't have believed John Tremlett would act so," said Mr. Benton slowly; "I trusted him so, and always treated him kindly."
"You trusted him!" repeated Ben, astonished.
"My boy," said Mr. Benton, "the time has come for me to throw off the mask. I am not Marcus Benton, as you suppose. I am Matthew Baldwin."
"But I thought Mr. Baldwin was dead—committed suicide," exclaimed Ben, in wild amazement.
"The world thinks so; but the world is mistaken. I will tell you the whole story. I found myself getting old. In all probability I had but a few years to live. By industry and economy I had accumulated a fortune, which I must leave behind me. I was anxious that it should not be squandered. I selected John Tremlett as my heir. So far as I knew he was devoted to my interests, and he seemed steady in his habits. But it occurred to me to try him. Accordingly I sent a letter to my lawyer, Solomon Brief, who had my will in his possession, announcing my intention to commit suicide, and directing him to open the will and carry out the provisions. Then I left Montreal secretly, staying a short time in northern Vermont. Later I came on to Boston and managed to throw myself in your way. Not knowing me, you treated me with kindness and consideration. I became interested in you, and regretted that I had made no provision for you and your aunt. Through you I have learned how unwisely I disposed of my fortune. Thank Heaven it is not too late to remedy that.
"This seems like a romance, Mr. Benton—I mean, Uncle Matthew."