"Then you are mistaken. I haven't seen the boy for weeks."

Tim Bolton spoke so straightforwardly that there was no chance to
doubt his word.

"When he was living with you, Mr. Bolton," continued Florence, "did he
ever stay away like this?"

"No," answered Bolton. "Dodger was always very regular about comin'
home."

"Then something must have happened to him," said Florence, anxiously.

"He might have got run in," suggested the apple-woman. "Some of them
cops is mighty officious."

"Dodger would never do anything to deserve arrest," Florence said,
quickly.

"Thrue for you, Florence, but some innersent parties are nabbed. I
know of one young man who was standin' on a strate corner waitin' for
the cars, when a cop came up and arristed him for disorderly conduct."

"But that is shameful!" said Florence, indignantly.

"Thrue for you, my dear. We might go round to the police headquarters
and inquire if the boy's been run in."

"What do you think, Mr. Bolton?" asked Florence.

Tim Bolton seemed busy thinking. Finally he brought down his hand
forcibly on the bar, and said: "I begin to see through it."

Florence did not speak, but she fixed an eager look of inquiry on the
face of the saloon-keeper.

"I believe Curtis Waring is at the bottom of this," he said.

"My cousin!" exclaimed Florence, in astonishment.

"Yes, your cousin, Miss Linden."

"But what can he have against poor Dodger! Is it because the boy has
taken my part and is a friend to me?"

"He wouldn't like him any better on account of hat; but he has another
and a more powerful reason."

"Would you mind telling me what it is? I cannot conceive what it can
be."

"At present," answered Bolton, cautiously, "I prefer to say nothing on
the subject. I will only say the boy's disappearance interferes with
my plans, and I will see if I can't find out what has become of him."

"If you only will, Mr. Bolton, I shall be so grateful. I am afraid I
have misjudged you. I thought you were an enemy of Dodger's."

"Then you were mistaken. I have had the boy with me since he was a
kid, and though I've been rough with him at times, maybe, I like him,
and I may some time have a chance to show him that old Tim Bolton is
one of his best friends."

"I will believe it now, Mr. Bolton," said Florence, impulsively,
holding out her hand to the burly saloon-keeper.

He was surprised, but it was evident that he was pleased, also, and he
took the little hand respe