Socrates Smith was, ordinarily, so careful of his money, that it was avery remarkable inadvertence to leave it on the bureau. Nor was it longbefore he ascertained his loss. He was sitting at his desk when hiswife looked in at the door, and called for a small sum for some domesticexpenditure.
With an ill grace--for Socrates hated to part with his money--he put hishand into the pocket where he usually kept his wallet.
"Really, Mrs. Smith," he was saying, "it seems to me you are alwayswanting money--why, bless my soul!" and such an expression ofconsternation and dismay swept over his face, that his wife hurriedlyinquired:
"What is the matter, Mr. Smith?"
"Matter enough!" he gasped. "My wallet is gone!"
"Gone!" echoed his wife, in alarm. "Where can you have left it?"
Mr. Smith pressed his hand to his head in painful reflection.
"How much money was there in it, Socrates?" asked his wife.
"Between forty and fifty dollars!" groaned Mr. Smith. "If I don't findit, Sophronia, I am a ruined man!"
This was, of course, an exaggeration, but it showed the poignancy of theloser's regret.
"Can't you think where you left it?"
Suddenly Mr. Smith's face lighted up.
"I remember where I left it, now," he said; "I was up in the chamber anhour since, and, while changing my coat, took out my wallet, and laid iton the bureau. I'll go right up and look for it."
"Do, Socrates."
Mr. Smith bounded up the staircase with the agility of a man of halfhis years, and hopefully opened the door of his chamber, which Jim hadcarefully closed after him. His first glance was directed at the bureau,but despair again settled down sadly upon his heart when he saw that itwas bare. There was no trace of the missing wallet.
"It may have fallen on the carpet," said Socrates, hope revivingfaintly.
There was not a square inch of the cheap Kidderminster carpet that hedid not scan earnestly, greedily, but, alas! the wallet, if it had everbeen there, had mysteriously taken to itself locomotive powers, andwandered away into the realm of the unknown and the inaccessible.
Yet, searching in the chambers of his memory, Mr. Smith felt sure thathe had left the wallet on the bureau. He could recall the exact momentwhen he laid it down, and he recollected that he had not taken it again.
"Some one has taken it!" he decided; and wrath arose in his heart, Hesnapped his teeth together in stern anger, as he determined thathe would ferret out the miserable thief, and subject him to condignpunishment.
Mrs. Smith, tired of waiting for the appearance of her husband, ascendedthe stairs and entered his presence.
"Well?" she said.
"I haven't found it," answered Socrates, tragically. "Mrs. Smith, thewallet has been stolen!"
"Are you sure that you left it here?" asked his wife.
"Sure!" he repeated, in a hollow tone. "I am as sure as that the sunrose to-morrow--I mean yesterday."
"Was the door open?"
"No; but that signifies nothing. It wasn't locked, and anyone couldenter."
"Is it possible that we have a thief in the institute?" said Mrs. Smith,nervously. "Socrates, I shan't sleep nights. Think of the spoons!"
"They're only plated."
"And my earrings."
"You could live without earrings. Think, rather, of the wallet, withnearly fifty dollars in bills."
"Who do you think took it, Socrates?"
"I have no idea; but I will find out. Yes, I will find out. Comedownstairs, Mrs. Smith; we will institute inquiries."
When Mr. Smith had descended to the lower floor, and was about enteringthe office, it chanced that his nephew was just entering the house.
"What's the matter, Uncle Socrates?" he asked; "you look troubled."
"And a good reason why, James; I have met with a loss."
"You don't say so!" exclaimed Jim, in innocent wonder; "what is it?"
"A wallet, with a large amount of money in it!"
"Perhaps there is a hole in your pocket," suggested Jim.
"A hole--large enough for my big wallet to fall through! Don't be such afool!"
"Excuse me, uncle," said Jim, meekly; "of course that is impossible.When do you remember having it last?"
Of course Socrates told the story, now familiar to us, and alreadyfamiliar to his nephew, though he did not suspect that.
Jim struck his forehead, as if a sudden thought had occurred to him.
"Could it be?" he said, slowly, as if to himself; "no, I can't believeit."
"Can't believe what?" demanded Socrates, impatiently; "if you have anyclew, out with it!"
"I hardly like to tell, Uncle Socrates, for it implicates one of theboys."
"Which?" asked Mr. Smith, eagerly.
"I will tell you, though I don't like to. Half an hour since, I wascoming upstairs, when I heard a door close, as I thought, and, directlyafterward, saw Hector Roscoe hurrying up the stairs to the third floor.I was going up there myself, and followed him. Five minutes laterhe came out of his room, looking nervous and excited. I didn't thinkanything of it at the time, but I now think that he entered your room,took the wallet, and then carried it up to his own chamber and secretedit."
"Hector Roscoe!" repeated Mr. Smith, in amazement. "I wouldn't havesupposed that he was a thief."
"Nor I; and perhaps he isn't. It might be well, however, to search hisroom."
"I will!" answered Socrates, with eagerness, "Come up, James, and you,Mrs. Smith, come up, too!"
The trio went upstairs, and entered poor Hector's room. It was notunoccupied, for Ben Platt and Wilkins were there. They anticipated avisit, and awaited it with curious interest. They rose to their feetwhen the distinguished visitors arrived.
"Business of importance brings us here," said Socrates. "Platt andWilkins, you may leave the room."
The boys exchanged glances, and obeyed.
"Wilkins," said Ben, when they were in the corridor, "it is just as Ithought. Jim has set a trap for Roscoe."
"He may get caught himself," said Wilkins. "I ain't oversqueamish, butthat is too confounded mean! Of course you'll tell all you know?"
"Yes; and I fancy it will rather surprise Mr. Jim. I wish they had letus stay in there."
Meanwhile, Jim skillfully directed the search.
"He may have put it under the mattress," suggested Jim.
Socrates darted to the bed, and lifted up the mattress, but no walletrevealed itself to his searching eyes.
"No; it is not here!" he said, in a tone of disappointment; "the boy mayhave it about him. I will send for him."
"Wait a moment, Uncle Socrates," said Jim; "there is a pair of pantswhich I recognize as his."
Mr. Smith immediately thrust his hand into one of the pockets and drewout the wallet!
"Here it is!" he exclaimed, joyfully. "Here it is!"
"Then Roscoe is a thief! I wouldn't have thought it!" said Jim.
"Nor I. I thought the boy was of too good family to stoop to such athing. But now I remember, Mr. Allan Roscoe told me he was only adoptedby his brother. He is, perhaps, the son of a criminal."
"Very likely!" answered Jim, who was glad to believe anything derogatoryto Hector.
"What are you going to do about it, uncle?"
"I shall bring the matter before the school. I will disgrace the boypublicly," answered Socrates Smith, sternly. "He deserves the exposure."
"Aha, Master Roscoe!" said Jim, gleefully, to himself; "I rather think Ishall get even with you, and that very soon."
CHAPTER XIX. A DRAMATIC SCENE.