like to
know before I go to bed just how much boodle I have acquired. Then I can
decide how much to give Gibbon. If I dared I'd keep the whole, but he
might make trouble."

Phil Stark, or Col. Philip Stark, as he had given his name, had a large
supply of keys, but none of them seemed to fit the tin box.

"I am afraid I shall excite suspicion if I sit up any longer," thought
Stark. "I will go to bed and get up early in the morning. Then I may
succeed better in opening this plaguy box."

He removed his clothing and got into bed. The evening had been rather
an exciting one, but the excitement was a pleasurable one, for he had
succeeded in the plan which he and the bookkeeper had so ingeniously
formed and carried out, and here within reach was the rich reward
after which they had striven. Mr. Stark was not troubled with a
conscience--that he had got rid of years ago--and he was filled with
a comfortable consciousness of having retrieved his fortunes when
they were on the wane. So, in a short time he fell asleep, and slept
peacefully. Toward morning, however, he had a disquieting dream. It
seemed to him that he awoke suddenly from slumber and saw Gibbon
leaving the room with the tin box under his arm. He awoke really with
beads of perspiration upon his brow--awoke to see by the sun streaming
in at his window that the morning was well advanced, and the tin box was
still safe.

"Thank Heaven, it was but a dream!" he murmured. "I must get up and try
once more to open the box."

The keys had all been tried, and had proved not to fit. Mr. Stark was
equal to the emergency. He took from his pocket a button hook and bent
it so as to make a pick, and after a little experimenting succeeded in
turning the lock. He lifted the lid eagerly, and with distended eyes
prepared to gloat upon the stolen bonds. But over his face there came
a startling change. The ashy blue hue of disappointment succeeded the
glowing, hopeful look. He snatched at one of the folded slips of paper
and opened it. Alas! it was valueless, mere waste paper. He sank into a
chair in a limp, hopeless posture, quite overwhelmed. Then he sprang up
suddenly, and his expression changed to one of fury and menace.

"If Julius Gibbon has played this trick upon me," he said, between his
set teeth, "he shall repent it--bitterly!"

CHAPTER XXVI.

A DISAGREEABLE SURPRISE.

Philip Stark sat down to breakfast in a savage frame of mind. He wanted
to be revenged upon G