Then he got down on his knees, and, one after the other, he tried the lock of Henry's trunk with the keys he had found. The fifth opened it. Sam blushed with shame, as he saw the inside of the trunk, with its contents neatly arranged. In spite of his faults he had some honorable feelings, and he felt that he was engaged in a contemptible business. He was violating the confidence of his friend and roommate, who had been uniformly kind to him, though he had declined to lend him money latterly. Sam admitted to himself that in this refusal he was justified, for he knew very well that there was very little chance of repayment. Sam hoped to find some money in the trunk; but in this hope he was destined to be disappointed. Henry was in the habit of making a weekly deposit in the savings-bank, and therefore he had no surplus stock of money. But at the bottom of his trunk was his savings-bank book. Sam opened it, and his eyes sparkled when he counted up the deposits, and found that they amounted to twenty-six dollars. "I didn't think Henry had so much money," he said to himself. He thrust the book into his pocket, and hurriedly locked the trunk. He went downstairs, and hastened to the bank, which, unlike the Sixpenny Savings Bank, was located downtown, and not far from the City Hall. Henry had selected it on account of its nearness. Sam entered the banking house, and went to the window of the paying clerk. He had accompanied Henry to the bank more than once, and knew just where to go. "How much do you want?" asked the clerk, in a business-like tone. "Twenty dollars," replied Sam, who had made up his mind not to take the whole. This was not due to any particular consideration, but on the way he had read the rules of the bank, and ascertained that a week's notice would be necessary before the whole account could be withdrawn. The clerk filled an order for twenty dollars, and pushed it over to Sam. "Sign that," he said. Sam hastily signed the name of "Henry Martin," and passed it back. The clerk went to a large book, and compared the signature with the one recorded therein. Now, there was a considerable difference between Sam's and Henry's handwriting, and he detected it at once. "You are not Henry Martin," he said, on his return. Sam was astonished at this discovery, but was too much alarmed to deny it. "No, sir," he said. "What is your name?" "Sam Barker." "What made you sign the name of Henry Martin?" asked the bank officer, suspiciously. "He is my roommate." "Did he ask you to draw this money for him?" "Yes," answered Sam. "He ought to have known that we would not pay it except upon his written order." "He thought it would do just as well if I signed his name," said Sam, growing bolder. "Then, he was mistaken." "Can't you give me the money, then?" "No, he must come himself." "All right!" said Sam. "I'll tell him."