"I don't know what to think," said Henry to himself. "If Sam has the book he hasn't drawn any money on it, or he would go to the theater.

Perhaps he is innocent."

Sam stayed out late. He did not go to the theater, being, as he said, short of money, but he lounged away the evening in billiard saloons, and it was a quarter past eleven before he got back to his room. When he entered Henry was fast asleep. Sam congratulated himself upon this.

He felt that now was his chance to return the book. He might have replaced it in the trunk, but as Henry had thoroughly searched it, he would at once suspect that it bad been replaced. Besides, Henry might wake up, and detect him in the act.

After some consideration, Sam put it into Henry's inside coat pocket, and then, undressing himself, went to bed.

"I've got clear of it now," he thought, "and whatever Henry suspects, he can't prove anything."

The next morning, as Henry was dressing, he chanced to put his hand in his coat pocket, and drew out the book.

"What's that?" asked Sam, who had been watching him.

"It's my savings-bank book," answered Henry.

"Where did you find it?"

"In my pocket."

"Then, you didn't put it in your trunk, after all?"

"Yes, I did."

"That's foolish. If you had, it wouldn't have got into your pocket."

Henry did not reply, but, examining the book, discovered to his satisfaction that no money had been withdrawn.

"You see you were wrong," said Sam.

"At any rate, I am glad to get the book back again," said Henry, quietly.

"I wonder if he suspects anything," thought Sam.

Henry did suspect, but he was determined to verify his suspicions before saying a word on the subject.

During the day he managed to get away from the store long enough to visit the savings-bank. He went at once to the desk where payments were made, and, showing his book, asked the clerk if he remembered whether any one had presented it the day before.

"Yes," was the answer. "A friend of yours wanted to draw out some money on your account; but of course we did not pay it without your order."

"I am glad you didn't."

"Then you did not send the boy who presented it?"

"No."

"I thought it might be so."

"How much did he want to draw?"

"Twenty dollars."

Henry looked serious. This certainly looked bad for Sam. He did not like to think that a boy to whom he had always been kind would so abuse his confidence.

"I shall take better care of my book in future," he said. "The boy had no authority from me to draw money."

"We saw that the signature was not correct, and refused to honor the draft."

Henry made a deposit of two dollars, increasing the amount to twenty-eight dollars, and then left the bank. On his way back to the store, he made up his mind that he would no longer room with Sam. Even if he increased his expenses, he could not consent to have for a roommate one who had made an attempt to defraud him.

CHAPTER XVI.

SAM LOSES HIS PLACE.

"Mr. Dalton wants you to go to the bank, and make a deposit," said William Budd, to Sam, on the forenoon of the same day.

"All right," said Sam.

"Be particularly careful, as the deposit is unusually large."

"Oh, yes, I'll be careful."

Sam received the checks and drafts, amounting to several thousand dollars, and started for the Fourth National Bank, on Nassau Street.

When he had accomplished a part of the distance, he met an old acquaintance, whom he had known in his boot-blacking days.

"How are you, Sam?" said Tim Brady. "I haven't seen you for a long time."

"I'm all right, Tim. I haven't seen you, either. Where have you been?"

"To Boston," answered Tim, briefly.

"You have!" exclaimed Sam, interested. "How did you like it?"

"I don't like it as well as York."

"Why not? Ain't it a nice place?"

"'Tisn't half as big as York. Besides, there ain't half so much fun.

There ain't no Old Bowery there, nor Tony Pastor's. I didn't know what to do with myself nights."

"What were you doing? Did you black boots?"

"No," answered Tim. "I was in a store on Dock Square."

"What sort of a store?"

"Clothing store."