to a clear spot. Then he looked around for
Mr. Wakefield Smith, but the man was gone.

Like a flash Jerry felt something had gone wrong. He put his hand in his
pocket. His money was missing!

CHAPTER XXV.

A FRUITLESS SEARCH.

"Less than half a day in New York and robbed! Oh, what a greeny I have
been!"

Thus Jerry groaned to himself as he searched first one pocket and then
another. It was all to no purpose, the money was gone and he was left
absolutely penniless.

The young oarsman was certain that Mr. Wakefield Smith had robbed him. He
had been wary of the man from the start, and now blamed himself greatly
for having given the rascal the chance to take the pocket-book.

Without loss of time Jerry darted into the crowd again, looking in every
direction for the thief. He was so eager, he ran plump into an old
gentleman, knocking his silk hat to the pavement.

"Hi! hi! stop, you young rascal!" puffed the man, as Jerry stooped and
restored the tile to him. "What do you mean by running into me in this
fashion?"

"Excuse me, but I have been robbed! I want to catch the thief."

"Robbed?"

"Yes, sir."

The gentleman nervously felt to see if his money and watch were safe.
Several others heard the words, and they gathered around Jerry.

"Who robbed you?"

"How much did you have?"

"Why didn't you hold the thief?"

Before Jerry could answer any of the questions a policeman came forward
and touched him on the shoulder.

"Are you the boy said he was robbed?"

"Yes, sir."

"What were you robbed of?"

"A pocket-book containing nearly thirty dollars."

"Did you see the thief?"

"I believe it was a man I was walking with. He called himself Wakefield
Smith."

The policeman questioned Jerry closely, and then took a good look around
for the individual. Later on, boy and officer walked to Mrs. Price's
boarding-house.

Here it was learned that Mr. Wakefield Smith had not paid any board money,
giving as an excuse that he had nothing less than a one-hundred-dollar
bill and that he would pay in the morning. It also came to light that he
had walked out with Mrs. Price's silver-handled umbrella, worth eight
dollars.

"The villain!" she cried. "I hope the police catch him!"

"You don't wish it more than I do," returned the young oarsman, dolefully.
"He took my last dollar."

Acting on the policeman's advice, Jerry walked around to the nearest
precinct station and made a complaint, giving the best de