le moved her; says he don't remember where
to. She give him a pint to forget's what I say."

"Who's livin' there now?" Dickie asked, interest in his aunt's address
swallowed up in a sudden desperate anxiety.

"No one don't live there. It's shut up to let apply Roberts 796
Broadway," said the boy. "I say, what'll you do?"

"I don't know," said Dickie, turning away from the van, which had
abruptly become unimportant. "Which way you goin'?"

"Down home--go past your old shop. Coming?"

"No," said Dickie. "So long--see you again some day. I got to go this
way." And he went it.

All the same the twilight saw him creeping down the old road to the
house whose back-yard had held the rabbit-hutch, the garden where he had
sowed the parrot food, and where the moonflowers had come up so white
and beautiful. What a long time ago! It was only a month really, but all
the same, what a long time!

The news of his aunt's departure had changed everything. The steadfast
desire to get to Gravesend, to find his father, had given way, at any
rate for the moment, to a burning anxiety about Tinkler and the white
stone. Had his aunt found them and taken them away? If she hadn't and
they were still there, would it not be wise to get them at once? Because
of course some one else might take the house and find the treasures.
Yes, it would certainly be wise to go to-night, to get in by the front
window--the catch had always been broken--to find his treasures, or at
any rate to make quite sure whether he had lost them or not.

No one noticed him as he came down the street, very close to the
railings. There are so many boys in the streets in that part of the
world. And the front window went up easily. He climbed in, dragging his
crutch after him.

He got up-stairs very quickly, on hands and knees, went straight to the
loose board, dislodged it, felt in the hollow below. Oh, joy! His hands
found the soft bundle of rags that he knew held Tinkler and the seal. He
put them inside the front of his shirt and shuffled down. It was not too
late to do a mile or two of the Gravesend road. But the moonflower--he
would like to have one more look at that.

He got out into the garden--there stood the stalk of the flower very
tall in the deepening dusk. He touched the stalk. It was dry and
hard--three or four little dry things fell from above and rattled on his
head.

"Seeds, o' course," said Dickie, who knew more about seeds now than he
had done when h