USUALLY Tom slept with the revolver under his pillow. This night he had neglected to do so. Even had it been there, however, it would have been as much as his life was worth to reach for it, as the motion would have been at once understood by the ruffian, who stood over him with a knife in his hand.

“I’ll get up,” said Tom, in answer to the threat recorded in the last chapter.

“You’d better!” growled the burglar.

“What shall I do?” thought Tom, racking his brain for some way of escape.

An idea flashed upon him. He turned to go behind the counter.

“Where are you going?” demanded the burglar suspiciously.

“For the money. That’s what you want, isn’t it?” asked Tom.

“Be quick about it. Where do you keep it?”

“Mr. Burton will think I took it,” said our hero, who had an object in what he said. “Won’t you be satisfied with taking some clothes?”

“Don’t be foolish, boy! What can I do with clothes? It is gold I want. Come, open the drawer. Where is it you keep it?”

“Will you leave a note for Mr. Burton, saying I didn’t take it?” asked Tom, who wished the ruffian to consider him simple.

“What a fool!” thought the burglar. “I’ll pretend to humor him. Yes,” he said, “I’ll leave a note which you can give him.”

“Will you write it now?”

“Of course not. I will as soon as I have the gold in my possession.”

“I suppose that will do. Step back, then.”

“What are you going to do?” asked the burglar in surprise, seeing Tom bend over.

“Lift the trap-door.”

“What for?”

“You want me to get the gold, don’t you?”

“Well?”

“I must go down cellar for it.”

“Is it kept down there?”

“Mr. Burton thought it would be safest there.”

“Did he?” chuckled the robber. “Then he’ll find his mistake.”

Tom raised the trap-door and disclosed a staircase leading down into a subterranean vault.

“I can’t see,” he said. “Will you lend me your lantern?” referring to the dark-lantern which the burglar carried.

“Oh, that will be all right. I’ll go down with you.”

“I wish you would,” said Tom. “I don’t like to go done here alone.”

“A coward!” thought the ruffian. “All the better for me. I thought from his looks that he was a bold, spirited boy, but appearances are deceitful. A pretty guardian he is for property.”

This was precisely the opinion which Tom desired his companion to have of him, as it was necessary for the success of his plan that his suspicion should be disarmed, and he be taken off his guard.

The cellar into which they descended was used to store goods of various descriptions, and presented to the glance a confused pile of bales and boxes, arranged without much regard to order.

“This is a queer place to keep money,” said the burglar, looking round.

“It’s a first-rate place,” said Tom complacently, “for nobody would ever think of looking for it here.”

“I don’t know but you’re right. Well, where is it?”

“In that little chest,” said Tom, pointing to one under a bale.

“So it’s there, is it?” said the burglar triumphantly. “How much is there?”

“There’s a good deal,” said Tom; “but don’t take all, will you? Mr. Burton will be so mad.”

“Oh, no, I’ll leave some,” said the burglar mockingly. “What a simpleton he is,” he thought. “Come, open it. Is it locked?”

“There, what a fool I was!” said Tom, in a tone so natural that it deceived his companion. “I left the key up-stairs. But I won’t keep you a minute. I’ll go up and get it.”

But for the opinion he had formed of our hero’s simplicity, the burglar would hardly have suffered Tom to leave him. As it was his contempt made him feel secure.

“Well, be quick then,” he said. “I can’t wait here all night.”

Tom did not answer.

He sprung up the stairs, and the first intimation the astonished ruffian had of his design was conveyed in the slamming to of the trap-door.

“Confusion!” he muttered. “The young rogue has outwitted me.”

He sprung forward, but in such haste that he tripped over a bale and measured his length on the floor, dropping his lantern at the same time. His temper by no means improved by this accident, he picked himself up, and springing up the narrow staircase, tried to raise the trap-door.

But Tom had drawn two bolts which fastened it above, and moreover, was dragging a heavy box to place upon it, so that the entrapped person found himself utterly unable to lift it.

“Open the door!” he shouted from below in mingled rage and fright.

“I’d rather not!” Tom shouted back in reply.

“If you don’t I’ll make it the worst for you, you young villain.”

“You’ll have to get at me first,” said Tom in a tone of aggravation.

The burglar realized that so far from being simple he had to deal with a boy who was brave and quick-witted.

“Confusion!” he muttered to himself. “If I am caught here it will ruin me.”

Again he shouted:

“I’ll shoot you through the floor.”

“Better not,” retorted Tom. “It will rouse the neighbors. Besides, I’ve got a revolver too.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“That don’t alter the fact.”

“Why didn’t you show it?”

“I couldn’t get at it while you stood over me with a knife.”

“He’s got me at an advantage,” thought the villain. “I must change my tone.”

“Let me up,” he pleaded, “and I’ll go off without taking your gold.”

“I don’t mean that you shall,” said Tom coolly. “You can’t get at it.”

“Why not?”

“It isn’t down there at all.”

“Then you deceived me,” exclaimed the baffled villain.

“Of course I did, and would do it again.”

“Are you going to let me out?” demanded the burglar, knocking furiously at the trap-door.

“Not till morning.”

There was no doubt about it. The burglar had been completely outwitted and trapped by a boy. That was the most humiliating part of it. If he could have got at our hero then, there is little doubt that he would have put him to death without a moment’s hesitation. But luckily for Tom there was a good plank flooring between, and a trap-door which was secured by two strong bolts. But Tom did not feel quite secure. There was an egress from the cellar at one side. If the ruffian should discover this, his peril would be extreme.