Henry was not a little disturbed at the disappearance of his bank-book. He felt confident that he had laid it away in his trunk, and in that case it must have been stolen. But who possessed a key to the trunk? Could it be Sam? Henry recalled Sam's application for a loan, and he feared that it was really he. He determined to make inquiries as soon as his roommate came home.

He had scarcely formed this determination when Sam entered.

"You are home early, Henry," he said.

"No; it is you who are late."

"I didn't get out quite as soon as usual."

"I wonder whether he has missed the bankbook," thought Sam. "If he'd only go out, I'd put it back where I took it from."

Sam was soon informed as to the bank-book being missed.

"I can't find my bank-book anywhere, Sam," said Henry, looking searchingly at his companion.

"Can't you? Where did you put it?" asked Sam, trying to look unconcerned.

"In my trunk."

"Then it must be there now."

"It is not. I have looked carefully."

"Then, you didn't put it there. You must be mistaken."

"No, I am not."

"You may have dropped it out of your pocket on the way from the bank."

"No; I remember distinctly putting it in my trunk."

Sam shrugged his shoulders.

"I suppose you know best; but if you put it there, it must be there now."

"Unless it has been taken from my trunk," said Henry, significantly.

"Just so," said Sam, readily. "Perhaps the landlady has taken it, or Bridget, the chambermaid."

"I don't think they have."

"Will you lose the money if you don't find the book?"

"No; I can report my loss at the bank, and they will give me a new one."

"Then you're all right."

"I don't like the idea of my book being taken. The same one who took the old book may take the new one."

"Well, I haven't got any bank-book to worry about," said Sam. "Are you going out to supper?"

"Yes. Then, you don't know anything about my book?"

"I! Of course not!" answered Sam. "What should I know of it?"

"I don't know. Come, then, we'll go to supper."

Sam saw that he was suspected, and he knew that he deserved it, but he did not want Henry to ascertain definitely that such was the fact, He wanted to return the book as soon as he could without observation, but for this he must wait a while.

When supper was over, they took a walk of half an hour, and then Henry started to return to his room.

"I'll stay out a little longer," said Sam.

"Are you going to the theater?" asked Henry.

"Not unless you lend me the money," said Sam. "I'm hard up myself."

"You generally are."

"Of course I am. How can I help it on such a mean salary?"

"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.