CHAPTER XXVIII.
SOMETHING ABOUT A TRAMP.
“Gone!”
The cry burst involuntarily from Jerry’s lips, and for the moment his heart seemed to stop beating. The precious papers were missing.
What had become of them? With great haste he hunted all of his pockets, not once but a dozen times. Then he felt in the linings, and in fact in all places where the packet might have become concealed.
It was useless; they were gone; that was all there was to it.
Had he dropped them in Slocum’s office, or during his hasty flight to the alleyway?