pounds, and a letter had accompanied the money. It ran thus:

"MR. STEPHEN BONE, Cashier, Bank of England:

"Inclosed find a receipt from Express Company, which will be delivered to
you, for the sum of fifty thousand pounds, which is one third of the
amount borrowed from you a little over a year ago. Please to acknowledge
its receipt to Express Company, and oblige,

"Yours penitently, ANDREW COURTENAY."

"This money," said the cashier, "was received yesterday and is now in the
vault. Permit me to congratulate the Board upon having now received two
thirds of the stolen money."

"Does anyone know who Andrew Courtenay is?" asked one of the directors.

"No," replied Mr. Bone, as the others sat silent, "I presume not. It is
not vital, however, since the name is most likely fictitious."

Job Worth was given a vote of thanks for his services in restoring the
fifty thousand pounds, and it was resolved that in each case where the
money was refunded further prosecution would cease.

One day, soon after Job's return, he sat in his bachelor quarters,
brooding over his ill luck, as he called it. So intense was his
disappointment that he began to doubt his fitness for the calling he had
entered, and to think seriously of resigning. True, he had been credited
with two or three successful investigations, but this last undertaking
could hardly be called a success. He had spent four hundred dollars in