“It happened in this way,” replied the other, who had come to lean on his cousin more or less since they had grown to be chums, “one of the drawers of father’s desk seemed to stick with the pile of papers in it, and he asked me to get it out. I can see him now, sitting there and watching me work at it, with that set look on his face that has been there ever since he sent poor Tom away.” “One of the papers was missing, you told me, and you thrust your hand in where the drawer had come from so as to get hold of it?” remarked Jack, eagerly, as though in imagination he could picture the intensely thrilling scene. “Yes, and when I hastily drew my hand out and held up what I had found there in the cavity where the drawer had been I thought my father would fall back dead in his chair, he was so stunned. His face turned as white as chalk, and he held his breath ever so long.” “It was the lost pocketbook, of course?” continued Jack. “Nothing less,” said Amos, tragically; “you see, it must have been lying on top of all those papers and was dragged off when the drawer was opened long ago. Every cent was in it untouched. Father swooned away with the shock, and has never been himself since. He can’t sleep nights, and keeps muttering all the while about his cruel injustice to poor Tom.” “Of course you showed him the cards from your brother, Amos?” “Yes, as soon as he was in a condition to understand,” replied the other. “From that hour he has had only one thing in his mind, which was that some one must find Tom and fetch him home. Father says he can’t live much longer, and that he is praying every day that he might ask his boy to forgive him before he goes.” “And so we’ve come across to try and find Tom,” Jack went on to say, “though since he’s changed his name it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack; but we’ve managed to pick up a clue, and there’s a faint chance of our running across him before a great while.” “Oh! I hope so, I hope so, Jack,” said the other, fervently. “Every time I shut my eyes I seem to see poor father’s face before me. The look of pain on it haunts me. I would give almost anything if only I could find Tom and take him back home with me. I believe it would give father new life. But what a small chance we’ve got to run across my brother in an army of half a million men, when we’re not even sure of the name he’s known by. He may have fallen long ago in one of those fierce drives the Germans made on the British lines.”