He was as cunning and artful as a fugitive from justice in concealing his haunt.

At last he was discovered in the old garret store-room over the Brick Row.

The marvel was that he had not died of cold there.

He was not far from it, however; for he was so ill that at times he was delirious.

He lay curled up in the old stack of comforters in the corner, with only a jug of water and some crumbs of bread by his side, when they found him.