"Leonard Craig."
"But what could induce him to do it?" said Carl, perplexed.
"He thought that I would see the letter, and would be prejudiced
against you if I discovered that you were investing in what is
a species of lottery."
"Would you, sir?"
"I should have thought you unwise, and I
should have been reminded of a fellow workman
who became so infatuated with lotteries
that he stole money from his employer to
enable him to continue his purchases of tickets.
But for this unhappy passion he would have
remained honest."
"Leonard must dislike me," said Carl, thoughtfully.
"He is jealous of you; I warned you he or
some one else might become so. But the most
curious circumstance is, he wrote a second letter
in his own name. I suspect he has bought a ticket.
I advise you to say nothing about the matter
unless questioned."
"I won't, sir."
The next day Carl met Leonard in the street.
"By the way," said Leonard, "you got a letter yesterday?"
"Yes."
"I brought it to the factory with the rest of the mail."
"Thank you."
Leonard looked at him curiously.
"He seems to be close-mouthed," Leonard said to himself.
"He has sent for a ticket, I'll bet a hat, and don't
want me to find out. I wish I could draw the capital prize--
I would not mind old Jennings finding out then."
"Do you ever hear from your--friends?" he asked a minute later.
"Not often."
"I thought that letter might be from your home."
"No; it was a letter from Syracuse."
"I remember now, it was postmarked Syracuse.
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