hance, if I can
help it. I expect funds from San Francisco to-morrow."

"I think I shall have to decline," Bert said, after a pause; "but your
offer seems a good one, and I have no doubt you will easily get
accommodated elsewhere."

Bert was not prepared for the next movement.

The stranger rose from his seat, drew a sponge from his pocket, and
quickly applied it to Bert's nostrils. He felt his head swimming and
consciousness departing.

"Aha," thought the stranger. "My prudent young friend will advance money
this time without security."

He hastily thrust his hand into Bert's pocket, drew out his pocket-book,
and, without stopping to open it or examine its contents, sprang to the
door, with the intention of making his escape.

But another boarder chanced to be passing through the entry at the
moment. A quick glance revealed to him Bert unconscious on a chair, and
the pocket-book in the hand of the man who was leaving the room. He took
in the situation at once.

"Give me that pocket-book," he said sternly. The other looked undecided.

"Give it to me, or I will hold you and summon help. If you surrender it,
I will let you go scot free."

The thief muttered an execration, but did not dare to refuse.

The boarder entered the room and set himself to reviving Bert.

"Where am I?" asked Bert, languidly.

"You are all right now," was the reply.

Bert looked up in the face of his visitor, and started in great
excitement.

"Tell me, quick," he said, "are you not Ralph Harding?"

"Yes," answered the other in great surprise. "Who are you that
recognizes me?"

CHAPTER XXXVI.

RALPH HARDING IS FOUND.

Bert was still partly under the influence of chloroform; but the sight
of Ralph Harding, whom he recognized from the photograph which had been
given him, roused him from his stupefaction.

Harding repeated his question.

"Who are you?" he asked, "and how do you know me?"

"I am Bert Barton."

"What? not the son of John Barton?" exclaimed Harding, drawing back with
a troubled look.

"Yes," answered Bert, gravely; "I am the son of John Barton, and I have
been in search of you for several weeks."

"You have been in search of me? Why did you want to see me?"

"I want you to clear my father of the false charge which was brought
against him ten years ago," answered Bert, firmly.

"I don't understand what you mean," stammered Harding, who had sunk back
into a chair and was eyeing Bert with a troubled