The cry burst involuntarily from Jerry's lips, and for the moment his heart seemed to stop beating. The precious papers were missing.

What had become of them? With great haste he hunted all of his pockets, not once but a dozen times. Then he felt in the linings, and in fact in all places where the packet might have become concealed.

It was useless; they were gone; that was all there was to it.

Had he dropped them in Sloc.u.m's office, or during his hasty flight to the alleyway?

Our hero retraced his steps, with eyes bent to the ground, in hopes that they would be found lying on the walk. In doing this he ran into half a dozen folks, many of whom did not take kindly to the collision.

"Look where you are going, boy."

"Hunting for a pin or gold dollars?"

Jerry paid no attention to the remarks. Reaching the alleyway, he turned into it and continued the search, but without success.

"Say, wot yer doin' in here?"

The question was asked by a youth in the tin-shop. He was red-headed and had a freckled face, but not an unpleasant one.

"I was looking for something I lost," said the young oarsman. "Have you seen anything in here of a flat, white package with a black shoestring tied around it?"

"Why, yes, I did," he answered.

"And where is it?"

"A tramp had it. I saw him walk out of der alley wid it not five minutes ago."

"A tramp? What kind of a looking man?"

"Tall and thin, with a grizzly beard. Oh, he was a regular b.u.m."

"Where did he go?"

"Up the street, I think. Was the bundle valuable?"

"Indeed it was, to me," replied Jerry, and hurried off.

He could see nothing of any tramp, and, after dodging around among the trucks for several minutes, returned to the youth.

"Please describe that tramp to me, will you?" asked Jerry, and the tinner's boy did so, as well as he was able.

"I think da call him Crazy Jim," he concluded. "He don't come down here very often. He belongs uptown somewhere."

"Well, if you ever see him again, please let me know. My name is Jerry Upton, and here is my address," and our hero handed it over.

"All right, I will. My name is Jerry Martin. Wot was in de package?"

"Some papers belonging to my father."

The boy wanted to question Jerry for further particulars, but the young oarsman did not care to say too much, and hurried off, to seek the tramp again.

That evening found our hero at Mrs. Price's, footsore and downhearted. He had seen nothing of Crazy Jim, and it looked as if the precious packet was gone for good.

Jerry could not help but wonder what Alexander Sloc.u.m's next move would be. Would the man endeavor to hunt him out or would he write to his father?

The next morning, on his way to Mr. Randolph Islen's place of business, Jerry met Nellie Ardell.

"Did you find Mr. Sloc.u.m's?" she asked.

"I did; and had a very disagreeable visit," returned our hero.

"I knew you would have," she went on. "I wish he was not my landlord."

Jerry asked her how Tommy was, and then they parted, and five minutes more brought our hero to the book-bindery.

Mr. Islen was not yet in, but he soon arrived, and smiled as Jerry presented himself.

"On hand, I see, my young friend. Well, how did you make out? Did you obtain a position?"

"No, sir."

"It's rather hard. Mr. Grice!" he called out.

The foreman of the book-bindery came in and Jerry was introduced to him.

Quite a chat followed, at the end of which Jerry was hired to work in the stock department at a salary of six dollars a week.

The salary was not large, but it would pay his expenses, and that was all he wished for at present.

"I won't have to write home for money," he thought.

Mr. Grice wanted Jerry to come to work immediately, but our hero begged to speak to Mr. Islen in private for a moment, and when they were left alone told his story from beginning to end.

The rich book-binder listened with interest, and tapped meditatively upon his desk when Jerry had finished.

"This is rather a strange story, Upton," he said. "What would you like me to do?"

"I would like you to give me some advice, sir. What had I best do?"

"You can do a number of things. What would be the best I cannot say. You might hire a lawyer to look into the case, and again you might have this Sloc.u.m arrested for locking you in the office. The loss of the packet complicates matters. Did it have your name on?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then you had better wait, and in the meantime advertise for the packet, offering a reward. That tramp may be watching for such an advertis.e.m.e.nt."

This was sound advice; but Jerry had no money, and said so.

"I will pay for the advertis.e.m.e.nt and take it out of your pay," said Mr.

Islen; and the notice was written out without delay and sent off by the office boy.