It was not until late in the afternoon that Jerry regained sufficient command of his faculties to observe that his clothes had been removed.

He uttered a cry of alarm which brought Mrs. Hogan into the room.

She found the old man struggling to rise in bed, but without success, so great was his weakness.

“Don’t try to get up, Jerry!” she said, soothingly. “Lie still, there’s a good man!”

“Bring me my clothes!” gasped Jerry.

“And what for do you want your clothes?” asked Mrs. Hogan, supposing that he wished to dress. “Shure the doctor said you must have them taken off. It would be better for you.”

“Bring them to me—quick!” gasped the old man once more.

“Shure, and what will you do with them?”

“Never mind, woman! Bring them to me, or I’ll have you arrested for robbing me.”

“O, that’s it, is it?” retorted the nurse, bridling. “If I couldn’t find anything to stale better’n them, I’d remain honest to the end of my life.”

“If you won’t bring them here, I’ll get up myself.”

“Take the clothes, thin,” said Mrs. Hogan, lifting them gingerly, as though afraid of contamination. “Shure, I wouldn’t give two cents for the lot of ’em.”

She little knew why Jerry valued them, and what a quantity of wealth had been concealed in the soiled garments.

With trembling fingers, and features working with agitation, Jerry took the clothes, and began to feel for his treasures. Alas for the old man! His worst fears were realized. The bank books and certificate of stock had been removed. Not a trace of them was to be found. The poor man, for he was to be pitied, uttered a sharp cry of anguish. The clothes dropped from his nerveless hands, and he fell back on the bed as if stricken with a mortal wound.

“Help! Help! Police!” he ejaculated. “I’ve been robbed.”

“Robbed is it?” inquired Mrs. Hogan, puzzled. “And of what have you been robbed, ould man?”

“There were two savings bank books in the pockets. You’ve taken them!”

“Well, well, if I ever heard the loike!” exclaimed Mrs. Hogan, indignantly. “So you call me a thafe, do you?”

“Give them back to me!” said the old man, imploringly. “I—I am so poor. It will kill me if I lose my money.”

“Two savings bank books, indade!” said Mrs. Hogan. “It’s my belafe you’re an ould humbug, you that have always called yourself so poor. And how much money was there in them?” she asked.

“I—I—no matter. Give me the books, or I’ll send for the police.”

“Go and welcome, this minute, if you please. You ought to know better than to call an honest woman a thafe.”

“Somebody has taken the books,” wailed Jerry.

“Very likely Paul’s taken care of them for you. He was here alone with the clothes.”

“Where is Paul?” demanded Jerry, with peevish eagerness.

“He’s at his work, but I’m expecting him back every minute. If he has taken the books, they are all right. Paul’s an honest boy, and a fine boy.”

“Do you think he would rob me, Mrs. Hogan?” asked Jerry, piteously.

“It’s a shame to be askin’ such a question,” said Mrs. Hogan. “Shure you know Paul wouldn’t demane himself by such an act. But here he is to answer for himself.”

She heard Paul’s step on the stairs, as he came up whistling. Directly afterwards he entered the room.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, looking from one to the other.

“The ould man’s in a great taking about bein’ robbed, Paul,” answered Mrs. Hogan. “He says some savings bank books have been taken from his clothes.”

“Where are they, Paul?” wailed the old man.

“They are safe, Jerry. I took them from your pockets, and the railroad shares, too, and have left them with a Safe Deposit Company, for safe keeping.”

“Are you sure they are safe, Paul?”

“Yes, much safer than they would be here. Of course Mrs. Hogan is honest, but other persons might come into the room.”

“Bring them back to me, Paul. I want to see them.”

“I can if you insist upon it, Jerry. But you are too sick to look after them. Besides, suppose your son should come in some day. He could rob you easily, and you would never see your property again. Shall I show you the receipt for them?”

“Yes.”

Paul drew from his pocket the receipt given him by the Safe Deposit Company, and displayed it to the old man.

“Let me keep this?” said Jerry.

“Yes, if you like.”

This seemed to satisfy him, and he clutched the paper with a deep sigh of relief.

“Shure, and you’ve calmed him down, Paul,” said Mrs. Hogan. “Was it really true about the books?”

“It was really true, Mrs. Hogan. He has a good deal of money, though he doesn’t look it.”

“Thin it’s a fool he is to live as he does, whin he might live like a gintleman.”

“He will never live differently. When he dies it will go to his son, who will get through with it in short order.”

Then Mrs. Hogan told Paul about the visit of Ellen Barclay, and her discovering a relation in old Jerry.

“I wish she might have some of the money. Shure, she nades it with her young children.”

“I would much rather she would have it than his son, who is a ruffian and a burglar.”

“And you’ll help her to it, if you can, Paul?”

“Yes, I will. I don’t want Jerry’s money myself. I am young, and my prospects are good. All I want is that it should go into the right hands.”