Jack followed the manager’s suggestions, and the result was that they were both satisfied they had located the rightful owner of the $6,700. “Start right up there now, Jack, and get back as soon as you can,” said Mr. Bishop. “The cashier will hand you the carfare.” It was something over an hour before Jack reached the address printed by the ‘World’--a small, two-story, frame building, one of a row of six, on a side street off Westchester Avenue. He rang the bell and a boy answered, holding the door partly ajar. “I should like to see Mrs. Breeze,” said Jack, in a business-like way. “Are you a reporter?” asked the boy, doubtfully. “Well, hardly,” grinned the young messenger. “I’m from Wall Street.” “Who are you talking to, Bobbie?” asked a woman’s voice rather petulantly. “There’s a boy here from Wall Street who says he wants to see you,” answered the young hopeful. “What does he want?” “What do you want?” repeated the lad. “I want to see Mrs. Breeze in reference to the money she lost.” “Let him come in,” and Jack was admitted. A sad-faced woman of fifty, with her eyes swollen from weeping, made her appearance from a back room. “Has any trace been found of my money?” asked the woman, with suppressed eagerness. “If you will describe the notes as well as you can remember them, I will be able to answer you,” said Jack, who saw that Mrs. Breeze’s personal description exactly corresponded with that furnished by the trust company. “The six one-thousand-dollar bills were new, but I didn’t notice the name of the bank either on them or on the other notes, one of which was a five-hundred-dollar and the other two one-hundred. I had them in a large, oblong envelope. That is all I can say about them.” “I think you have described them correctly,” said Jack, producing the envelope he had picked up. “Is this your property?” The woman pounced on the envelope like a hawk, opened the flap, took out the money and counted it with eager eyes; then, satisfied that it was all there, restored to her in the most wonderful manner after she had given it up for lost, she sank back in her chair and began to cry convulsively. After a moment or two she recovered her composure and inquired of Jack how the money had been found. He told her how he had picked it up close to the entrance of the trust company. She had drawn the money at two o’clock, and Jack had found it close on to four. It seemed incredible that an envelope containing such a large sum of money could have laid on the sidewalk of a prominent thoroughfare like Wall Street, glanced at and walked over by many people, and yet no one had had the curiosity to pick it up. “What is your name?” asked Mrs. Breeze. “Jack Hazard, madam.”