And so she slept on till the French clock upon the mantle struck eleven. Five minutes later and the door of the room slowly opened, and a boy entered on tiptoe. He was roughly dressed. His figure was manly and vigorous, and despite his stealthy step and suspicious movements his face was prepossessing. He started when he saw Florence. "What, a sleeping gal!" he said to himself. "Tim told me I'd find the coast clear, but I guess she's sound asleep, and won't hear nothing. I don't half like this job, but I've got to do as Tim told me. He says he's my father, so I s'pose it's all right. All the same, I shall be nabbed some day, and then the family'll be disgraced. It's a queer life I've led ever since I can remember. Sometimes I feel like leaving Tim, and settin' up for myself. I wonder how 'twould seem to be respectable." The boy approached the secretary, and with some tools he had brought essayed to open it. After a brief delay he succeeded, and lifted the cover. He was about to explore it, according to Tim's directions, when he heard a cry of fear, and turning swiftly saw Florence, her eyes dilated with terror, gazing at him. "Who are you?" she asked in alarm, "and what are you doing there?" Chapter V. Dodger. The boy sprang to the side of Florence, and siezed her wrists in his strong young grasp. "Don't you alarm the house," he said, "or I'll----" "What will you do?" gasped Florence, in alarm. The boy was evidently softened by her beauty, and answered in a tone of hesitation: "I don't know. I won't harm you if you keep quiet." "What are you here for?" asked Florence, fixing her eyes on the boy's face; "are you a thief?" "I don't know--yes, I suppose I am." "How sad, when you are so young."