Farmer Swikes looked at the chair before the mantle-piece, and he knew that he did not leave it there. He stopped to think about the matter for a moment. That chair could not have been there when he put his hand in the closet before: if it had been, he would have fallen over it. “I am sure I heard somebody in the kitchen,” said Mrs. Swikes, in the bedroom. “This chair wasn’t here when I came out before,” replied Mr. Swikes: “somebody has been here since I was.” “Is the money safe?” asked the woman; and to her this was the great question. The farmer put the chair out of the way, and thrust his hand into the closet. He felt all about for the old wallet that contained the treasure. His heart came up into his throat when he missed it. He tried to think just where he had placed it; but the little cupboard was not more than six inches deep, and it could not have strayed very far. It was not there; it was certainly gone. Somebody had stood in that chair, and reached into the closet for the money. “It is gone!” exclaimed farmer Swikes, as soon as he had satisfied himself of the fact. “Gone!” repeated Mrs. Swikes. “Who on airth could have taken it?” When she had partially dressed herself, she came out into the kitchen; and Wade saw on their faces an expression of utter despair. The boy of all work was satisfied that it would not be prudent for him to step out, and tell them their son was the thief. It would not be safe for him to do so, after the experience he had had that day. “It would been safer to put the money in the bank,” groaned farmer Swikes. “But who did it? It must be some one that knows about the house took it,” added Mrs. Swikes. “I found that chair under the mantletry-piece,” said the farmer, as he pointed to the chair he had found directly under the closet. “Then it must be somebody that couldn’t reach up to the closet without gittin’ into a chair,” added the logical Mrs. Swikes. “It was some boy; and I shouldn’t wonder if it was Wade Brooks. He’s bad enough to do sich a thing. Run right up to the garret, Obed, and see if he is there; and, if he is, sarch his pockets, and look all about the bed,” continued the woman, as she lighted another candle for her husband’s use on this mission. “Oh, dear!” groaned Wade, not audibly, but in spirit. “They’ll find I’m not there, and it will be all up with me.” The farmer went up stairs, and his wife stepped into her chamber for something as soon as he was gone. Wade took advantage of this momentary uncovering of the position to open the cellar door; but he did not trouble himself to close it, for fear that the noise might betray him. He dared not go down the stairs; for, like every thing about the house, they were old and rickety, and they would certainly creak when they were expected not to do so. He was still in a position to hear what was said in the kitchen.