"It's gone! It's gone! My tin box is gone!"
"Your tin box?" repeated Songbird, as the old man threw open the door.
"Yes! yes! The fellow has robbed me! Oh, this is dreadful! What shall I do? I am a poor man! Oh, I'll have to go to the poorhouse!" And the miser commenced to wring his hands.
"What did you have in the box?" questioned Sam.
"I had—some—er—some money, and some—er—jewelry," faltered Hiram Duff. He was a very secretive man naturally and it galled him to make the admission.
"How much money, Mr. Duff?"
"Oh, a—er—quite some. Oh, this is too bad! What shall I do? This will ruin me! Oh, where is that rascal? How can I catch him?" and the old man ran around the kitchen, staring at one thing and another, and at the boys.
"This must be Tom's work," whispered Sam to Songbird. "I wonder what I had best do about it?"
"Wait until you are sure it was Tom," advised the would-be poet.
Sam commenced to question the old miser regarding the looks of the fellow who had visited him. He soon became convinced that it must have been Tom. Clearly his brother must now be completely out of his mind.