The third day was rainy, and Gilbert wore a thin overcoat, which, on arriving at the office, he took off and hung up. At ten o’clock the rain ceased, and he did not feel the need of wearing it when sent out on errands.

About eleven o’clock John sauntered into the office.

“You may go round to the post-office, Gilbert,” said the book-keeper.

“Very well, sir.”

Gilbert put on his coat and went out.

“Isn’t it about time, cousin Simon?” asked John, significantly.

“Yes,” said Moore.

“How shall we manage?”

164The book-keeper took from his pocket a ten-dollar bill, and handed it to John.

“That is Gilbert’s coat,” he said. “Put this bill into one of the pockets.”

John obeyed.

“I guess that will fix him,” he said, in a tone of satisfaction.

“I’ll manage the rest,” said the book-keeper. “Stay round here till Gilbert gets back, and we’ll bring matters to a crisis.”

Just as John was placing the bill in Gilbert’s coat-pocket, the little boot-black mentioned at the close of the last chapter thrust his head into the doorway.

“Shine yer boots?” he asked.

“Clear out, you vagabond!” said the book-keeper, irritably.

Tom, for that was his name, looked inquisitively about him and retired. He saw that there was no chance for business. He recognized John as the one who had kicked him the day before.

“I wonder what he was putting into the coat,” he 165thought; but dismissed the thought as not concerning him till afterwards.

“Did he notice what I was doing?” thought John, with momentary uneasiness. “But, of course, he wouldn’t understand,” he felt, with quick relief.

A few minutes elapsed, and Gilbert returned, bringing home the mail.

“All right!” said Moore, “wait a minute, and I shall want to send you out again.”

“Oh, by the way, Gilbert,” he said, after a moment’s pause, “have you seen anything of a ten-dollar bill?—I laid one on the desk an hour ago, and now it has disappeared.”

“I haven’t seen it, sir.”

“Won’t you look on the floor? It may have dropped.”

Gilbert searched, but of course unsuccessfully.

“That is strange,” said the book-keeper. “I remember distinctly placing the bill on the desk; have you seen it, John?”

“No, cousin Simon.”

“It is very mysterious,” mused the book-keeper.

166“I hope you don’t suspect me of taking it, cousin Simon,” said John, who had been instructed what to say.

“Of course not.”

John began to turn his pockets inside out.

“I want you to search me,” he said; “if you don’t, you may think I took it, after all.”

“I never thought of such a thing, John,” said Simon Moore.

“I am sure Gilbert and I would prefer to be searched,” persisted John, looking towards Gilbert as he spoke.

Gilbert colored, for it was not agreeable to him to fall under suspicion, but he answered quietly, “I am quite ready to be searched.”

“I don’t think it at all necessary,” said Simon Moore; “but if you boys insist upon it, I will do it. It is certainly strange that the bill should have disappeared, and left no trace behind. Gilbert, will you search John, and then he shall search you.”

“If you desire it, Mr. Moore,” said Gilbert; “but 167I don’t believe John took the bill, and I am sure I didn’t.”

Gilbert proceeded to search John, the latter assisting him. A jack-knife, a couple of keys, a handkerchief, and twenty-five cents in money were all that he found.

“I’m not very rich,” said John, smiling. “I don’t mind saying that the ten dollars would be very acceptable, but I haven’t got it; are you satisfied?”

“Yes,” said Gilbert, “you haven’t got it, and I didn’t think you had; you may search me now.”

John conducted the search carelessly, for he knew, beforehand, what the result would be.

“I don’t find it,” he said. “Where can the bill be? Are you sure you didn’t put it back into your own pocket, cousin Simon?”

“Quite sure. By the way, Gilbert, didn’t you wear an overcoat?”

“Yes, sir; there it is, hanging up.”