s well as I do."

"No, I don't."

"How long have you worked for that man?"

"Only a few days."

"What about that other chap upstairs?"

"He came to work about the time I did."

"And that pale-looking man, too?"

"I don't know any more about him than you do."

"Did you place any money in your employer's hands?"

"Yes, a hundred dollars. And Harry Bray, the other clerk, put up the
same amount."

"Humph! I reckon you've seen the last of your cash."

"What!" cried Nat, aghast. "Do you mean that?"

"I sure do."

"But--but----" Our hero was so staggered he could not continue for the
moment.

"This Hamilton Dart--or whatever he calls himself--is a first-class
swindler."

"A swindler!" Nat fell up against the doorway. "I--I--then my money is
gone?"

"More than likely."

"Oh, what a fool I've been! And I thought he was such a gentleman."

"He has fooled lots of folks besides you, young man," said one of the
men, kindly, for he saw that Nat was hard hit.

"He isn't a business man at all?"

"He is a confidence man from Chicago."

By this time, feeling certain something was wrong, Harry Bray and
Oliver Ripple came below.

"What do you mean by confidence man?" asked Nat, doubtfully.

"He is a swindler; one of the kind that can tell a good story in order
to get your money."

"Who is a swindler?" demanded Harry Bray.

"Our employer," cried Nat. "He has run away with our money."

"Has Mr. Dart run away?" asked the sick man, nervously.

"Yes."

"Oh! And to think I borrowed that money from my poor sister!" came with
a cry of anguish, and then the sick man sank on the hallway stairs,
thoroughly overcome.

CHAPTER XIV

NAT OBTAINS ANOTHER SITUATION

"How is it that you know so much about this man?" asked Nat, after he
had collected his thoughts.

"I am a police official from Chicago," answered one of the two men who
had tried to catch Hamilton Dart. "We have been on this rascal's trail
for some time."

"Is Hamilton Dart his real name?"

"No; his real name is Nick Smithers. He is a sly rogue."

"Do you think there is any chance of catching him?" asked Harry Bray. "I
cannot afford to lose my money."

"Nor I," added our hero.

"I must have my money back!" groaned the sick man. "What will my sister
say? She got it out of the bank only yesterday!"

"I wish I could help you," said the Chicago police official. "We'll do
what we can."

All went back to the office, and the janitor of t