"You of course knew the story of the mysterious disappearance of Henry Witherspoon."
"Yes; when a boy I had read something about it."
"In view of the many frauds that had been attempted, hadn't you a fear that your father might he suspicious of you?"
"No; I had forwarded letters and held proof that could not be disputed. The mystery was cleared up."
"How old are you?"
"I shall be twenty-five next—next"—
"December the fourteenth," Witherspoon answered for him.
"The truth is," said Henry, "uncle did not remember the exact date of my birth."
"Was your uncle a man of means?"
"Well, I can hardly say that he was. He speculated considerably, and though he was never largely successful, yet he always managed to live well."