"I paid two hundred and forty dollars for that watch, and fifteen dollars for the chain, let alone the seal, and I want to know who has them!" It was Mr. Hatville's voice pure and simple, without any fishy element about it. At the same time a good pair of boots, such as no dog-fish ever wore, were tramping excitedly across the floor. Poor Mrs. Murcher's anxious, protesting voice was heard in reply, but not loud enough for Olly to make out the words. "I hung it up when I was changing my clothes, and then went off and forgot it!" burst forth the male voice again. "But I supposed it would be safe here. I didn't know you had thieves in your house, Mrs. Murcher!" "I haven't, sir! unless they are among your own friends," the landlady answered, in a higher key than before. "I don't believe it is stolen. It must be somewhere!" "Of course it's somewhere!" the boarder retorted--"somewhere in some rogue's keeping. I'd like to see the fellow who dared to lay hands on it--the best time-keeper I ever saw! Stem-winder; chronometer movement; heavy, fine gold case! I had it regulated down to the finest point; it was losing only about a second and a half a month." Other voices here joined in; the corridor appeared to be filling with boarders, all excited by the news of Mr. Hatville's loss. "No," said that gentleman; "I wasn't at all anxious about it; only, when I found we couldn't get back last night, I was vexed to think it would run down. I wouldn't have had that happen for five dollars. Where's Olly?" he demanded. "_He_ must know something about it." Olly trembled in his bed. He would have preferred just then to take his chances with a whole school of dog-fishes, of the largest size, rather than confront the wrathful owner of the watch. "I don't think he knows anything about it," said Mrs. Murcher, now quite near Olly's door. "He has been away all night; he has had a terrible time out at sea--in the sea--and on the rocks. Don't disturb him! He's fast asleep." "If he hasn't slept for a week, and can't sleep again for a fortnight," cried Hatville, "I'll have him up and see if he knows anything about that watch." "Let me speak to him!" said Mrs. Murcher. "You've no idea how weak and tired and worn out he is. I've got him into a perspiration, and now if it is checked, I shall expect nothing in the world but that he will have a fit of sickness, and may be never get over it." "It ought not to check an honest boy's perspiration, to tell what he knows about my chronometer," Hatville muttered, while Mrs. Murcher, stepping down the two or three stairs that led to the old attic, opened Olly's door. "Sh!" she whispered gently, motioning Mr. Hatville back. "He's so sound asleep! It's such a pity to wake him, poor boy! But I suppose I must." Oily lay with his back toward her, with his head and face covered by the sheet. His perspiration hadn't ceased, by any means; he felt that he was fast dissolving in a clammy feeling of abject fear.