"Poor, poor Tom," he sighed. "If he is going to act this way, what will he do next? I wish I could find him, and that Dick was here to help me to take care of him and clear up this mess."
"I don't know what I'm a-going to do," whined Hiram Duff. "I gotter find that box."
"How big a box was it?" questioned Sam.
"'Twasn't so very big—a fellow could put it in his pocket. But it had gold—I mean money—in it, and my dead wife's jewelry."
"How much money, Mr. Duff?"
"What business is that of yours?" demanded the miser, suspiciously.
"Why, I think—maybe I can help you get it back," stammered Sam. He grew red in the face. "To tell the plain truth, I think I know who that fellow was."
"Who?"
"Tell me what you lost first."
"Well, if you must know, that box had three hundred dollars in gold in it, besides the jewelry. That my wife got from her folks when they died, and they said it was wuth over a hundred dollars."