"I haven't got any money," said Sam.

A sudden thought came to Dr. Graham. "Empty your pockets," he said.

"How lucky I put the bills in my stocking!" thought Sam.

He turned out his pockets, disclosing fifty cents. It was Friday, and to-morrow his weekly wages would come due.

"That's all I've got," he said.

"Twenty dollars is five weeks salary," said Dr. Graham. "You ought to work for me five weeks without pay."

"I'd starve to death," said Sam, in alarm. "I wouldn't be able to buy anything to eat."

"I can keep back part of your salary, then," said his employer. "It is only proper that you should suffer for your negligence."

At this moment a friend of the doctor's entered the office.

"What is the matter?" he asked.

Dr. Graham explained briefly.

"Perhaps," said the visitor, "I can throw some light upon your loss."

"You! How?"

"I happened to be coming over from Brooklyn an hour since on the same boat with that young man there," he said, quietly.

Sam turned pale. There was something in the speaker's tone that frightened him.

CHAPTER XXV.

BROUGHT TO JUSTICE.

Sam would have been glad to leave the office, but he knew that to ask would be to subject him to increased suspicion. Besides, the stranger might not be intending to accuse him.

Dr. Graham's attention was excited, and he asked, "Do you know anything of this matter, Mr. Clement?"

"Yes, doctor. As I said, I was on board the Brooklyn ferry with this young man and a friend of his, whom I believe he addressed as Jim. I heard them talk, being in the next seat, about money, and something was said about concealment. My curiosity was aroused, and I made up my mind to follow them after they left the boat."

"He knows all about it," thought Sam. "I wish I hadn't come back."

"Go on," said Dr. Graham, eying Sam sternly as he spoke. "You followed the boys?"

"Yes. They made their way to the end of a pier, where this young man of yours slipped off his stockings, and, as well as I could tell, for I was watching at a distance, concealed some bills in them, and afterwards drew them on again. It struck me at once that if the money had been honestly come by, they wouldn't have been so anxious to secrete it."

"Sam," said the doctor, sternly, "what have you to say to this charge?"

"It was my money," stammered Sam.

"What did you put it in your stockings for?"

"Jim told me how dangerous it was to carry it round in my pocket loose. So, as I hadn't any pocket-book, I put it in my stockings."

"Very probable, indeed. Suppose you take off your stockings."

Sam had decided objections to this; but he saw that it would be of no use to urge them, and slowly and reluctantly complied.

"Now put in your hand, and take out the money."

Sam did so.

The doctor counted the bills.

"Here are only nine dollars," he said. "Take out the rest."

"There isn't any more," said Sam.

"Don't attempt to deceive me," said his employer, sternly. "It will be the worse for you if you do."

"There isn't any more," persisted Sam, earnestly. "If you don't believe it, you may look yourself."

Dr. Graham did so, and found the statement correct.

"There were twenty dollars in the letter," he said, sternly. "What has become of the other eleven?"

There was no use in persisting in denial further, and Sam made a virtue of necessity.

"Jim got half the money," he confessed.

"Who's Jim?"

"Jim Nolan."

"How came he to get half the money? Did you owe it to him?"

For the first time it struck Sam that he had been a fool to give away ten dollars without adequate return. All that Jim had given him was bad advice, which is never worth taking.

"I don't know how I came to give it to him," said Sam. "It was he who wanted me to take the money. I wouldn't have done it but for Jim."

"It strikes me," said Mr. Clement, "that Jim is not a very desirable companion. So you gave him ten dollars?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did you spend any of the money?" asked Dr. Graham.

"Yes, sir."