Old Ben had not yet discovered the sinister face at the window. He was too busily occupied with his pleasant employment of counting over his gold for the hundredth time, it might be, to be aware of the dangerous witness at the window.
But he was speedily aroused by the noise of the window being raised from the outside.
Then he turned with a startled look which quickly deepened into astonishment and dismay as he caught the lowering look fixed upon him. There was more than this. There was recognition besides.
"You here?" he gasped, mechanically gathering up the gold in his trembling fingers, with the intention of replacing it in the bag.
"Yes, Ben, it's me," answered the tramp, with a sneer. "May I come in?"
"No, no!" ejaculated the old man, hastily.
"I think I must," returned the tramp, in the same mocking tone. "I came to see you as an old friend, but I never dreamed you were so rich. That's a pretty lot of gold you have there."
"Rich!" repeated Ben, with his usual whine. "I'm very poor."
"That looks like it."