“Yes.”
“I don’t think I mind much. I never expected to have any money, except what I could earn for myself; and if it was Sam—”
“What, who came and broke open this bureau like any burglar would?”
“Yes, uncle,” said Tom sadly; “if you too really think it was Sam.”
“Stop a moment, boy. Had your cousin any notion as to what was kept in that bureau?”
“I’m afraid so, uncle. When he came down here, and I took him about and showed him the place, I remember he asked me what was kept there, and I said you kept your valuable papers there.”
“Humph!” ejaculated Uncle Richard.
“But if you do think it could have been Sam—”
“Stop again, sir,” cried Uncle Richard; “are you keeping anything back? Are you sure that you did not recognise him by some word, or when you were near the window? Did you not get a glimpse of his face?”
“No, uncle,” said Tom firmly. “I never once had the slightest idea as to whom it could be, till I began to think about it after the struggle, and he had got away. Then I’m afraid I made sure it was he.”