"No."

"That is strange," said Ben thoughtfully. "Do you know, mother, I met
him on my way home, or rather, he came up behind me and tapped me on
the shoulder."

"What did be say?" asked Mrs. Barclay eagerly.

"He gave me back the bogus dollar he took from me saying, with a
laugh, that it would be of no use to him. Then he said he might do me
a service sometime, and I would some day hear from him."

"Ben, I think that man took the papers from the pocket of your dying
father, and has them now in his possession. He promised to sell me a
secret for money, but I told him I had none to give."

"I wish we could see him again, but he said he should leave town
to-night. But, mother, what was the bad news you spoke of?"

"Ben, I am afraid we are going to lose our home," said the widow, the
look of trouble returning to her face.

"What do you mean, mother?"

"You know that Squire Davenport has a mortgage on the place for seven
hundred dollars; he was here to-night with a man named Kirk, some
connection of his wife. It seems Kirk is coming to Pentonville to
live, and wants this house."

"He will have to want it, mother," said Ben stoutly.