“A’n’ wot about it, are you goin’ to lemme go?” questioned the former gardener, eagerly.

“Not just yet,” broke in Tom.

“Why not?  You can’t hold me for stealin’ when there wasn’t nuthin’ taken.”

“That is true, Royce, but we want you to sign a confession as to just how that ring got in the inkwell.  If you don’t do that, the seminary authorities may still think it was placed there by Miss Laning.”

“Oh, I don’t want to put nuthin’ off on Miss Laning’s shoulders,” answered the former gardener.  “If you want a confession from me so as you can clear her, go ahead!”

“Wait here until I’ve sent that telegram,” Tom said, hastily; and rushed off once more to the telegraph office, where he sent the following to Nellie: 

“Ring recovered.  Was hidden in inkwell by Royce.  We have gardener’s
confession.  Hurrah!  Will write particulars.

“Tom.”

“I hope she gets that before she goes to bed to-night,” mused the youth.  “If she does it will make her sleep so much better.”

There was a stenographer’s office attached to the Outlook Hotel, and late as it was, the young lady was found at her typewriter, pounding out a letter for a commercial traveler.  As soon as this was finished, the stenographer was asked to take down whatever Andy Royce might have to tell.  The former gardener was brought in, and repeated the confession he had previously made.  This was typewritten as speedily as possible, and then Andy Royce signed the confession in the presence of one of the hotel clerks and a notary who lived at the hotel.

“Now I think that fixes it,” said Tom.  “Miss Parsons won’t be able to go behind that confession.”

“Are you goin’ to let me go now?” asked the former gardener of Hope.

“Yes, you can go, Royce,” answered Tom.  “But wait a minute.  How much money have you left of that ten dollars my brother’s wife let you have?”

For reply the man dove down in his pocket, and brought out some change.

“Eighty-five cents.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes.”

“See here, if I stake you with another ten dollars, will you give me your word not to drink it up?”

“I will, Mr. Rover, I will!” exclaimed Andy Royce, earnestly.

“All right, then, here’s the money;” and Tom brought out two five-dollar bills and placed them in the man’s hands.  “Now look here, unless you can find something to do, you come here and see me again in a few days.”

“But see here, Tom,” interposed Dick, in a low voice, “I don’t think we can use Royce in anyway.  Why not let him go?  As a gardener he is out of place in a big city like New York.”

“I want him to stay here for two reasons,” answered Tom.  “In the first place I want him on hand in case the authorities at the seminary need him.  In the second place, I am going to put the matter squarely up to Miss Harrow.  She thought Nellie guilty, and she may have thought Royce worse than he really was.  Perhaps I can get her to give Royce another chance.  I think he would be all right if he would only let drink alone.”