The old man seemed much improved, bodily, but his mental anguish was pitiable. Again and again he implored to be allowed to go back and look for his money, but of course this could not be. What was left of the ruins was a mass of blazing wood.
Then, when he seemed to think that all was lost, the old man became calmer, and told a more connected story.
The old Frenchman was an engraver by trade and had worked for many years in New York, doing fine engraving for some leading jewelers. Then he had become crippled by an accident and had moved to Cresville for his health. In Cresville he had managed to pick up considerable work from the local jewelers, doing the engraving on rings, watches, and silver and gold ware for them.
“I have much jewelry to engrave!” he said, with a sorrowful shake of his head. “I have a fine gold watch, and a silver tea set, and a magnificent diamond brooch, and other things. Now—where are they?” and he shrugged his shoulders despairingly.
“Gee, that will be a big loss for somebody!” remarked Ned.
Just before the fire broke out the old Frenchman had had a visitor. This, as he explained, was a “queer stick of a man with a very crooked nose.”
“He got it in a fight in France many years ago,” said Mr. Cardon. “I had not seen him in a long time. How he found me and my money and the jewelry I do not know. But he threatened, and would have hurt me, had I not given him some. But I hid the most of it, and then the fire came. It came after Crooked Nose went out. Maybe he set the blaze. He was wicked enough. Oh, my money is lost—and that jewelry I was trusted with!”
“It is if it was in there. But maybe that fellow you call Crooked Nose got it,” suggested Jerry. “You can have a look in the ruins after they cool.”
There was nothing more the motor boys could do, and, learning that some of the neighbors would care for the old Frenchman, they got ready to go home.