"Perhaps he took more," said Rose. "He went through your pockets after he knocked you down. I saw him do it."
With his head still aching, our hero felt in first one pocket and then another. He gave something like a groan.
"Every cent is gone!"
"How much did you have?"
"Between four and five dollars."
"I am sorry for you," said Mrs. Clare. "But I am afraid you will never see your money again."
"Does that rascal live around here?"
"Sometimes. He comes and goes to suit himself. I suppose he will stay away now for a while."
"Is there any use of my reporting this to the police, do you think?"
"I don't think so. He once took my pocket-book from the table here—I am sure of it—but when I reported it to the police nothing was done. They said his word was as good as mine."