occupier of the only available parlour of the
kro, and he wished for permission to share it, I
could not guess. Probably the stranger saw
my perplexity; for he said, stepping forward,

"My name is Krantz—Jorn Krantz; and
when I tell you that I have travelled post-haste
from Kiel, on purpose to seek a few moments'
discourse with Mr. Compton of the house of
Hallett and Jones, you will not, I hope, refuse
to listen to me."

I made a polite reply, and begged that Mr.
Krantz would be seated. He gladly removed his
heavy cloak, and stood before me in his tightly-
buttoned black coat, with a neat white cravat, a
small diamond brooch stuck in the breast of his
frilled shirt, and the party-coloured riband of
some foreign, decoration in one button-hole
—altogether, from his grey head and calm
intelligent face down to his well-polished boots,
the type of an old-fashioned merchant of the
highest commercial stamp. He was rather
proud and stiff of bearing, though very urbane,
and his voice was that of a person used to
speak with authority. Disregarding my invitation
to sit down and share the appetising meal
that smoked upon the table, his tirst act was,
as soon as the waiting-maid had left us to
ourselves, to rise, and lock the door. Then he
turned to me; and as his face came for the
first time under the full light of the lamp, I
could see that his features were quivering with
emotion. Twice he tried to speak, and twice
the words seemed to choke him; but he turned
his head away, and covered his eyes with his
hand, before he said, in a voice that was weak
and tremulous,

"You see in me, Mr. Compton, the
unhappy, almost heart-broken father of Paul
Krantz. Oh, my son! my son! Fond and proud
of him as I have been, what shame is this that
he has brought upon my white hairs! Bear
with me a moment, sir—only a moment."

And the old merchant —in whom I could not
doubt that I beheld the head of the great
house of Krantz and Co.—sank into a chair,
covered his face with his wrinkled trembling
hands, and sobbed aloud. But. this emotion
was soon conquered; and then, in a broken
voice and with averted face, the poor old
gentleman told me what here follows:

The Krantz family had been in commerce for
several generations, known for a probity and
honour that were traditional among them. The
first black sheep of the flock was the old
merchant's only son, Paul Krantz. I started when
I heard this, half incredulous of such an accusation
against the fine, frank-looking young Dane
whom I had so lately seen, and who had impressed
me very favourably; but then the accuser was his
own father! I was shocked to hear that Paul
was a hypocrite, a gambler; so wedded to high
play, both on the Bourse and at the lansquenet-
table, that he now threatened to engulf his
father's whole fortune.

"All I have is his," said the old merchant,
sadly; " and if he has fallen so low as to rob
his father that he may be in funds for a fresh
trip to the Hamburg Exchange and the card-
tables, I can bear it in silence. After all, in a
few years it would, in the course of nature,
hare passed to him. But my good name is in
danger now, and that I would keep free from
stain at any cost. Mr. Compton, the notes in
which my son paid over to you the large
amount due to Hallett and Jones—those
notes— " He stopped, gasping.

"What of them?" exclaimed I, getting
excited in my turn, and mechanically thrusting my
hand into the inner pocket, where the steel-
bound pocket-book lay securely.

"Those notes are 'forgeries!" answered the
merchant, hoarsely.

And then the rest of the sad story came out.
Paul Krantz had wilfully misled his lather as to
the probable date of my arrival to settle our
account with the Kiel firm. He had had
considerable losses of late in some wild stock-
jobbing speculations on the Paris Bourse, and
his agents had threatened him with exposure if
the deficit were not made good. Desperate,
and confiding in his father's indulgence to bear
him scathless in case of discovery, the unhappy
young man had contrived that his parent should
be absent from home at the time of my arrival,
and had paid me in fictitious notes, a large
quantity of which, availing himself of his
master-key, he had previously lodged in the
cash-box. These notes were in a manner forced
upon me, as a conjuror forces a card, for even
had I chosen to encumber myself with the
silver, there were not nearly enough dollars in
the counting-house to liquidate the claim of my
employers.

"I returned, and suspecting that something
was amiss, interrogated my son, and examined
the books and the cash," said the merchant.
"Paul prevaricated at first, but presently made
a full confession, imploring mercy, not only on
account of the ties of blood between us, but for
the sake of his innocent wife she, sir, knows
nothing of his errors, and his disgrace and
his punishment would kill her outright. And
therefore, without losing a moment, I started
on your traces, using every exertion to
overtake you, which, however, but for the most
lucky incident of your being detained here, I
should hardly have done on this side of
Copenhagen. And once there, you would, doubtless,
have presented the notes, when discovery
scandal —"

And here he broke off, groaning, but soon
found voice again to tell me the object of his
haste. He entreated, drawing a thick rouleau
of bank-notes from his bosom, to be permitted
to redeem, with genuine paper of the Royal
Danish Bank, those forged securities that I had
so unsuspiciously accepted from his guilty son.
The loss, as he justly remarked, ought, in no case,
to fall on Hallett and Jones, and he would
willingly make any sacrifice to prevent a stigma
from falling on the spotless reputation of Krantz
and Co. Paul was frightened, if not penitent,
and his father was resolved to send him to
Ameriea, trusting that change of scene and