It was stone cold.
“He is dead!” cried Ernest, and a feeling of desolation came over him.
“I am all alone now,” he murmured.
But he was not wholly alone. There was a face glued against the window-pane—a face that he did not see. It was the tramp he had met during the day at the village store.
CHAPTER III
ROBBERY
The tramp stood with his face glued to the pane, looking in at the boy. He could not quite understand what had taken place, but gathered that the old man was dead.
“So much the better!” he said. “It will make my task easier.”