He lifted a pillow from Ned's bed. Under it were four one dollar bills which Ned had placed there before he went to sleep. "Here's part of it, anyhow!" the man exclaimed. "I want the rest now! Fork it over!" "That's my money!" cried Ned, as the red-moustached man took the bills and stuffed them into his pocket. "Your money! A likely story! Anybody with as much money as that would never stop in a place like this." "How did you happen to stop here then?" asked Ned quickly. "Me? Why young impudence, I'm the proprietor of this lodging house! I live here! That's why. Hey, Bill!" he called in a loud voice, "come here. There's trouble." In answer to the summons a big man, evidently the night porter or watchman, came shuffling down the corridor. "What's the trouble, boss?" he asked, and Ned began to believe the man had spoken the truth when he said he was the proprietor of the place. "Why, here's a kid comes into my room when I'm asleep and takes my cash right from under my pillow. I wake up just in time to see him sneak back into his room and when I get him with the goods on him he has the impudence to deny it. There's part of the cash," and he showed Ned's money, "but I want the rest. Better call a policeman, Bill." "All right, boss. Just as you say," and the porter shuffled off. "Do you mean to say you're going to have me arrested on a charge of stealing your money?" asked Ned. "That's what I am unless you give it up." "But I didn't take it. It must have been some one else, if you really were robbed. Why don't you look in some of the other rooms along here?" "Because I saw you come in here after you were in my room, and had your hand under my pillow." "Couldn't you be mistaken?" "Not much. I've been in this business too long. 'Tisn't the first time I've been robbed, but it's the first time I got the thief and I'm goin' to make an example of you." "You're making a big mistake," Ned said, trying to speak bravely, but the accusation, unjust as it was, coupled with his other misfortunes was almost too much for him. "I'll take the chances on that. Who are you, anyhow? What's your name, and where'd you come from?" Ned hesitated. If he gave his real name it might lead to trouble over the stock, in case the proprietor carried out the threat to have him arrested. He was not used to telling untruths and he was afraid if he gave a false name he would soon betray himself. Still it seemed the best thing to do and would harm no one save himself. "My name's George Anderson," he said boldly. "Where I came from is none of your affair." "Afraid to tell, eh? Well, the judge will soon have it out of you." It was quite cold now, and Ned, standing half dressed as he was in the room, began to shiver. He put on his clothes. "Guess that's a wise thing to do," the proprietor of the lodging house remarked. "You'll get a ride in the hurry-up wagon soon."