"I dunno," said Dick. "I never thought of it. P'rhaps I may hire a
furnished house on Madison Square."

"That's where Flora McFlimsey lived."

"I don't know her," said Dick, who had never read the popular poem
of which she is the heroine.

While this conversation was going on, they had turned into
Twenty-fifth Street, and had by this time reached Third Avenue.

Just before entering it, their attention was drawn to the rather
singular conduct of an individual in front of them. Stopping
suddenly, he appeared to pick up something from the sidewalk,
and then looked about him in rather a confused way.

"I know his game," whispered Dick. "Come along and you'll see what
it is."

He hurried Frank forward until they overtook the man, who had come
to a stand-still.

"Have you found anything?" asked Dick.

"Yes," said the man, "I've found this."

He exhibited a wallet which seemed stuffed with bills, to judge from
its plethoric appearance.

"Whew!" exclaimed Dick; "you're in luck."