."

"It must have been somebody in the house. Suppose we go and see Mrs.
Mooney. She may know whether anybody came into our room to-day."

The two boys went downstairs, and knocked at the door of a little
back sitting-room where Mrs. Mooney generally spent her evenings. It
was a shabby little room, with a threadbare carpet on the floor, the
walls covered with a certain large-figured paper, patches of which
had been stripped off here and there, exposing the plaster, the
remainder being defaced by dirt and grease. But Mrs. Mooney had one
of those comfortable temperaments which are tolerant of dirt, and
didn't mind it in the least. She was seated beside a small pine
work-table, industriously engaged in mending stockings.

"Good-evening, Mrs. Mooney," said Fosdick, politely.

"Good-evening," said the landlady. "Sit down, if you can find
chairs. I'm hard at work as you see, but a poor lone widder can't
afford to be idle."

"We can't stop long, Mrs. Mooney, but my friend here has had
something taken from his room to-day, and we thought we'd come and
see you about it."

"What is it?" asked the landlady. "You don't think I'd take
anything? If I am poor, it's an honest name I've always had, as all
my lodgers can testify."

"Certainly not, Mrs. Mooney; but there are others in the house that
may not be honest. My friend has lost his bank-book. It was safe in
the drawer this morning, but to-night it is not to be found."

"How much money was there in it?" asked Mrs. Mooney.

"Over a hundred dollars," said Fosdick.

"It was my whole fortun'," said Dick. "I was goin' to buy a house
next year."

Mrs. Mooney was evidently surprised to learn the extent of Dick's
wealth, and was disposed to regard him with increased respect.

"Was the drawer locked?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Then it couldn't have been Bridget. I don't think she has any
keys."

"She wouldn't know what a bank-book was," said Fosdick. "You didn't
see any of the lodgers go into our room to-day, did you?"

"I shouldn't wonder if it was Jim Travis," said Mrs. Mooney, suddenly.

This James Travis was a bar-tender in a low groggery in Mulberry
Street, and had been for a few weeks an inmate of Mrs. Mooney's
lodging-house. He was a coarse-looking fellow who, from his
appearance, evidently patronized liberally the liquor he dealt out
to others. He occupied a room opposite Dick's, and was often heard
by the two boys reeling upstairs in a state of intoxication,
utt