"It is under the floor of the room. You lift up a board just before you get to the pantry, and you will see a tin box underneath. You will find something else in it, Tom. It is a paper in which I wrote down all I know about you. You said you would forgive me for wronging you." "Yes, Jacob." "Perhaps you can get back your rights; but I am afraid not." "My rights!" repeated Tom, bewildered. "Yes; I can't tell you about it; I am too weak; the paper will tell you." The old man began to show signs of exhaustion. The excitement of learning his hopeless condition, and the conversation which he had already held with Tom, had overtasked his feeble strength, and he showed it by his appearance. "I am afraid I have staid too long, Jacob," said Tom, considerately. "I will go, now, but I will come back to-morrow morning." "You won't look for the box till I am gone, Tom?" said the old man, anxiously. "I--the doctors might be wrong; and, if I get well, I would want it back again." "No, Jacob, I will not look for it while you are alive." "Promise me," said Jacob, suspicious to the last, where money was concerned. "I promise, Jacob. Don't be troubled. I would rather have you live than take all the money." "Good boy!" said Jacob, faintly, as his head sank back on the pillow. Tom left the hospital ward with one last glance of compassion at the miserable old man, who clung to life, which had so little that is ordinarily counted agreeable, with despairing hope. It was the last time he was to see Jacob alive. The next day, when he called to inquire after the old man, he was told that he was dead. He sank steadily after his last interview with our hero, and, having parted with the key to his treasure, it seemed as if there was nothing left to live for. CHAPTER VI. THE REVELATION. Tom had already made up his mind upon one point. He would accept the bequest of his old companion, since, in so doing, he was robbing no one better entitled to it. So far as he knew, the old man had no relatives or friends, except himself. But he was determined that, since Jacob had money, he should not be buried at the public expense. He would take so much of the hundred dollars as might be necessary, and place it in the hands of the doctor at Bellevue Hospital to defray the expenses of Jacob's funeral. He would say nothing about it, however, till he had actually found the money. It might be a hallucination of Jacob's, and have no real existence. "When will he be buried?" he inquired at the hospital. "Day after to-morrow." "How much will it cost?" "Do not trouble yourself about that," said the physician, who judged that Tom was poor. "That will be done at the expense of the city." "But," said Tom, conscientiously, "he left a little money. At least he told me so. If I find it, I will pay out of it whatever it costs." "It is not necessary."