SEVERAL persons were standing near Tom, but no one who looked like his nocturnal acquaintance of Wilton.
“I suppose I am ahead of time,” thought our hero.
Just then a well-dressed gentleman, swinging a light bamboo cane, approached and tapped Tom lightly on the arm.
“I see you are on hand my young friend,” said the new-comer.
Tom glanced quickly at the man who had spoken to him.
He saw a gentleman, handsomely dressed, with a heavy gold chain depending from his waistcoat, and having every appearance of a man not only well-to-do, but rich.
“Haven’t you made a mistake, sir?” he asked, in a puzzled manner.
“No, I think not. You are Thomas Thatcher, from Wilton, are you not?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you don’t remember me?”