“But I won’t die now?” asked old Ben anxiously.
Not at present, I hope. But you must live better than you have been accustomed to do.”
“I shall be glad to get away,” said Tony hurriedly, to the doctor, outside of the house. “I’m used to tramping, and I can’t stand it much longer. There’s one thing I want to tell you before I go.”
“Go on, my boy.”
“I am afraid the old man will be robbed sometime.”
“Is there anything to steal?”
Tony, in a low tone, imparted to Dr. Compton the discovery he had made of the miser’s hoards.
I suspected as much,” said the doctor. “I will do what I can to induce Ben to have the gold moved to a place of safety, but I don’t feel confident of my ability to do it. Such men generally like to have their hoards within their own reach.”
Two nights later Tony awoke shortly after midnight. It was a bright, moonlight night, as on the first night he slept there. Again he saw Ben crouched on the floor, engaged in counting his hoards. The old man had recovered enough strength to get out of bed without assistance. This time, he was broad awake.