"Of that--well, no matter--I fear where the fellow who lost the bronze lives--there will be found the little one." Sam had spoken in a voice so soft and low and grave that it startled Smith. During the pause that followed, he looked at Sam in steadfast amaze. "Do yees belave it?" he finally asked. "I do!" "Sure, yees do be after me own hart. I tould thim some thaivin' blackguard----" "Hush!" Sam interrupted, "not so loud. If a fellow by the name of George Golda claims it"---- "George Golda!" repeated Smith. "Yes; if George Golda claims it bring him to me. If he will not come, track him, and let me know where he lives as soon as possible. Do it quietly." "Sure, I will that. D'yees think he's the wan?" whispered Smith, intensely interested. "We shall see," replied Sam. "But don't part with the bronze. You will remember?" "I will, be me soul, I will, and be the token ave it, I'll"--and Smith spat on his hands and made other significant manifestations quite understandable to descendants of a fighting nation. Immediately thereafter Sam continued on to Simms' office, and there, closeted with the detective, related his experience. Twenty minutes later, a quiet, unassuming, seedy-looking man carelessly lounged about in the vicinity of the Plaza fountain, and no matter what position he occupied, or where he loitered, express No. 346 and its driver never escaped from his sight. CHAPTER X. The sun had traversed half the distance from the horizon to the zenith when Rutley called at Rosemont for information concerning the seriousness of Sam's injuries, and incidentally to have a chat with Hazel, for he was very fond of the girl. "We appreciate your lordship's anxiety to learn of Sam's condition, and I am sure Sam will express to you his gratefulness for promptly bringing him home," added Mrs. Harris. "I am glad he is able to be about," continued Rutley, looking at the floor, "though I should imagine a few days of quiet rest after such a vigorous shake-up would be attended by beneficial results." "I am sure of it," said Mr. Harris; "for immediately he regained consciousness there seemed to come over him a worry about something--" "Dear me!" exclaimed Mrs. Harris, in surprise. "I cannot conceive Sam being worried about anything." "Nevertheless, my dear, the boy did appear worried last night, or rather early this morning, and though he spoke and acted quite rational, still it has given me much concern." Again turning to Rutley, "And imagine my astonishment, too, when on going to his room early this morning I found he had gone." "He hadn't even been in bed--had evidently not undressed--just flung himself down on the couch." "You don't apprehend the wound exerts undue pressure on the brain?" queried Rutley, in the most carefully studied manner, as he looked meaningly at Mr. Harris. "James, you should have insisted on the doctor remaining with the dear boy over night."