He wanted to know how much he had, and was more than half resolved to take an early train the next morning for the West, where he thought he should be secure from discovery.
"Is there anything wanted, sir ?" asked the servant, lingering at the door.
"No, no," said Fairfax, impatiently.

"It's all right." "Might be a little more polite," muttered the snubbed servant, as he went downstairs.
"Now for it!" exclaimed Fairfax, exultingly.

"Now, let me see how much I have got." He drew the pocketbook from his pocket, and opened it.

His heart gave a quick thump, and he turned ashy pale, as his glance rested upon the worthless roll of brown paper with which it had been stuffed.
"Curse the boy!" he cried, in fierce and bitter disappointment.

"He has fooled me, after all! Why didn't I stop long enough to open the pocketbook before I came away?
Blind, stupid fool that I was! I am as badly off as before--nay, worse, for I have exposed myself to suspicion, and haven't got a penny to show for it." I will not dwell upon his bitter self-reproaches, and, above all, the intense mortification he felt at having been so completely fooled by a boy, whom he had despised as verdant and inexperienced in the ways of the, world--to think that success had been in his grasp, and he had missed it, after all, was certainly disagreeable enough.