"That you know of," said the tramp, significantly.

"Do you know of any?" asked Mrs. Barclay eagerly. "How did you happen
to know him?"

"I was the barkeeper in the hotel where he died. It was a small
house, not one of your first-class hotels."

"My husband was always careful of his expenses. He did not spend
money unnecessarily. With his prudence we all thought he must have
some investments, but we could discover none."

"Have you got any money in the house?" asked the tramp, with seeming
abruptness.

"Why do you ask?" returned the widow, alarmed. "Surely, you would not
rob me?"

"No, I don't want to rob you. I want to sell you something."

"I don't care to buy. It takes all our money for necessary expenses."

"You don't ask what I have to sell."

"No, because I cannot buy it, whatever it may be."

"It is--a secret," said the tramp.

"A secret!" repeated Mrs. Barclay, bewildered.