o sell you something."

"I don't care to buy. It takes all our money for necessary expenses."

"You don't ask what I have to sell."

"No, because I cannot buy it, whatever it may be."

"It is--a secret," said the tramp.

"A secret!" repeated Mrs. Barclay, bewildered.

"Yes, and a secret worth buying. Your husband wasn't so poor as you
think. He left stock and papers representing three thousand dollars,
and I am the only man who can put you in the way of getting it."

Mrs. Barclay was about to express her surprise, when a loud knock was
head at the outer door.

"Who's that?" demanded the tramp quickly. "Is it the boy?"

"No, he would not knock."

"Then, let me get out of this," he said, leaping to his feet. "Isn't
there a back door?"

"Yes, there it is."

He hurried to the door, unbolted it, and made his escape into the open
beyond the house, just as the knock was repeated.

Confused by what she had heard, and the strange conduct of her
visitor, the widow took the lamp and went to the door. To her
surprise she found on opening it, two visitors, in one of whom she
recognized Squire Davenport, already referred to as holding a mortgage
on her house. The other was a short, dark-complexioned man, who
looked like a mechanic.

"Excuse me the lateness of my call, Mrs. Barclay," said the squire
smoothly. "I come on important business. This is Mr. Kirk, a cousin
of my wife."

"Walk in, gentlemen," said Mrs. Barclay.

"This is night of surprises," she thought to herself.

CHAPTER IV
UNPLEASANT BUSINESS

It was now nine o'clock, rather a late hour for callers in the
country, and Mrs. Barclay waited not without curiosity to hear the
nature of the business which had brought her two visitors at that
time.

"Take seats, gentlemen," she said, with the courtesy habitual to her.

Squire Davenport, who was disposed to consider that he had a right to
the best of everything, seated himself in the rocking-chair, and
signed his companion to a cane chair beside him.

"Mr. Kirk," he commenced, "is thinking of coming to Pentonville to
live."

"I am glad to hear it," said Mrs. Barclay politely. Perhaps she would
not have said this if she had known what was coming next.

"He is a carpenter," continued the squire, "and, as we have none in
the village except old Mr. Wade, who is superannuated, I think he will
find enough to do to keep him busy."

"I should think so," assented the widow.

"If he does