"Perhaps he had another pocket-book. But that's the one he took out when he paid me."
"I must go up again, Meg. He had seventy dollars, and I'm goin' to have the rest. Five dollars won't pay me for the trouble of stealin' it."
"Don't hurt the boy, Jack."
"I will, if he don't fork over the money," said her husband, fiercely.
There was no longer any thought of concealment. It was necessary to wake Walter to find out where he had put the money. So Jack went upstairs boldly, not trying to soften the noise of his steps now, angry to think that he had been put to this extra trouble. Walter heard him coming, and guessed what brought him back. I will not deny that he felt nervous, but he determined to act manfully, whatever might be the result. He breathed a short prayer to God for help, for he knew that in times of peril he is the only sufficient help.
The door was thrown open, and Jack strode in, bearing in his hand a candle, this time lighted. He advanced to the bed, and, bending over, shook Walter vigorously.
"What's the matter?" asked our hero, this time opening his eyes, and assuming a look of surprise. "Is it time to get up?"
"It's time for you to get up."
"It isn't morning, is it?"
"No; but I've got something to say to you."