The words struck a chill of terror to Ned's heart. Must he spend the rest of the night in a cell? The man's manner showed no relenting. He either believed Ned had robbed him or was insisting on the charge for some reason of his own. "Are you in earnest about this?" asked Ned, as he put on his hat and overcoat. "You can make up your mind to that," was the man's answer. "It'll be the jail for yours, in a little while, if you don't give me back my money. It isn't too late. I can fix it with the cop if you'll give up. Why look here, kid, they'll search you and find it on you. You haven't had time to hide it, and, besides, there's no place in this room. You must have it on you. Give it up and save trouble." "I haven't your money," Ned said boldly. "Those bills you took from under the pillow were mine. You can search me now if you want to. That is all the money I have except a little change in my overcoat pocket," and he showed the man. "That don't go with me. I'm sure you robbed me. I'll not search you or you'd say I was up to some game, and nobody ever said but what Jim Cassidy was honest, though he does keep a cheap lodging house. No, sir, the cop'll search you." Ned knew the officer would find nothing--except the stock certificate. There was the trouble. Ned thought every officer in New York had a description of it and was looking for the boy who carried it. No, he couldn't allow himself to be searched. "It's cold!" exclaimed Cassidy suddenly, as he shivered in his long nightrobe. "I'm goin' to get dressed. Better not try to run or I'll nab you. I'll be in the next room." He went into his own apartment and Ned could hear him putting on his clothes. By the grunts and puffs that ensued he judged Cassidy was having hard work, as he was a large man, and putting on a shirt was no easy matter. Then a daring plan came into Ned's mind. In spite of the excitement caused by the proprietor's entrance into his room and the loud talking that followed the accusation, none of the other lodgers had gotten up. Even sending the porter for a policeman had not excited any curiosity. Ned resolved to make his escape if possible. He thought he could slip past Cassidy's door and down the stairs before Bill would return with a policeman. He got upon the bed and looked over the partition into Cassidy's room. The proprietor was putting on his shoes and had his back to the door. There was a light at the far end of the corridor, illuminating it dimly. Ned took off his own shoes, and, carrying them in his hand stepped to the door of his room. He stole softly into the corridor and was about to slip past Cassidy's room when the door of the apartment opposite his opened just a crack and a hoarse voice whispered: