His head ached, and he raised up and
looked in the direction of Thorne's bed. It was unoccupied. The instant
thought that something was wrong, that something unusual had transpired
aroused him, and he sprang out of bed. Just then a tap on the door
startled him. "Hello!" he said, "come in."
A voice replied: "Can't come in--door is locked. Do you want breakfast?"
Job sprang to his vest, which hung on a chair, to find, by his watch,
what time it was; but his watch was not there. As quickly as possible he
dressed himself, and in doing so, he put his hand into a secret pocket
where he carried his valuable papers, and pocketbook. It was empty. Every
paper, even the warrant which the London authorities had issued,
authorizing Worth to arrest James Thurston, and his pocket book,
containing over a hundred pounds, had disappeared and he was locked in
his room. In the midst of his humiliating astonishment, his eyes rested
on a paper neatly folded and addressed to Job Worth, Esq., Bow Street
Detective, London, England. Opening it, he read as follows:
"You will doubtless be surprised on perusing this affectionate note. I
know you, of course. I also know why you are here. When I met you today I
at once knew it was all up with me unless I could outgeneral you--and I
think I have. Part of the money you seek you will find in the bureau
drawer. You are welcome to it. I have carried it around a year, and have
not been able to buy so much as a cigar with it.
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