know!" he said, emphatically.

"I will ask her if I may tell you."

"I can't wait for that. You must tell me at once."

"I can't do that."

"You are mistaken; you can do it."

"Then, I won't!" said Dodger, looking his companion full in the face.

Curtis Waring darted a wicked look at him, and seemed ready to attack
the boy who was audacious enough to thwart him, but he restrained
himself and said:

"Let that pass for the present. I have another question to ask. Where
is the document you took from my uncle's desk on the night of the
burglary?"

And he emphasized the last word.

Dodger looked surprised.

"I took no paper," he said.

"Do you deny that you opened the desk?" asked Curtis.

"No."

"When I came to examine the contents in the presence of my uncle, it
was found that a document--his will--had disappeared, and with it a
considerable sum of money."

And he looked sharply at Dodger.

"I don't know anything about it, sir. I took nothing."

"You can hardly make me believe that. Why did you open the desk if you
did not propose to take anything?"

"I did intend to take something. I was under orders to do so, for I
wouldn't have done it of my own free will; but the moment I got the
desk open I heard a cry, and looking around, I saw Miss Florence
looking at me."

"And then?"

"I was startled, and ran to her side."

"And then you went back and completed the robbery?"

"No, I didn't. She talked to me so that I felt ashamed of it. I never
stole before, and I wouldn't have tried to do it then, if--if some one
hadn't told me to."

"I know whom you mean--Tim Bolton."

"Yes, Tim Bolton, since you know."

"What did he tell you to take?"

"The will and the money."

"Eactly. Now we are coming to it. You took them, and gave them to
him?"

"No, I didn't. I haven't seen him since that night."

Curtis Waring regarded the boy thoughtfully. His story was
straightforward, and it agreed with the story told by Tim himself.
But, on the other hand, he denied taking the missing articles, and yet
they had disappeared.

Curtis decided that both he and Tim had lied, and that this story had
been concocted between them.

Probably Bolton had the will and the money--the latter he did not care
for--and this thought made him uneasy, for he knew that Tim Bolton was
an unscrupulous man, and quite capable of injuring him, if he saw the
way clear to do so.

"My young friend," he said, "your story is not even pla